Hide Me
by Raewolf
Summary: Harry is mercilessly abused by his uncle and deep in his heart he knows that no one could ever love him Sirius tries to save him, but some things just don't go away He loves so much, but no one can help him if they can't get close. M for violence/language
1. I'm Sorry, I Deserve This

A fat and grubby hand took Harry's wrist, holding it still so that a hot knife's blade could pierce his flesh. He bit his lower lip to avoid crying out, but that just meant that blood flowed from his chin as well as his forearm. But it was better than actually making a sound. After all, if he'd screamed in pain, it would have just excited Vernon more, injecting even more enthusiasm in the thick _thump thump thump _of his uncle's too-big fist on his ribcage. His eyes squeezed shut and a whimper broke free of his tightly closed lips,

"N-No!" It was faint and more breath than word, but Vernon still managed to hear, and he still managed to get very, very angry, and very, very offended.

"'No'?! 'NO'?!" The knife fell with an enraged clatter and his uncle back-handed him, sending him flying into the kitchen counter. "Don't you talk back you ugly, miserable thing! Do you think you deserve to speak? To express worthless ideas that wander in and out of that poor excuse of a head?!" Harry swallowed the blood that gathered in his mouth and didn't respond. It would just make things worse if he had. He didn't think that though, that he deserved to speak, to force his own ideas onto somebody else. If one of his friends had asked him though, if he deserved that kind of thing, he'd have snorted and told them of course. Who wouldn't deserve something as basic as that?

But in his heart, his subconscious, he knew that he did not deserve it.

The hand continued hitting him, forcing him onto the cold stone counter top. He closed his eyes and out of habit, raised his arms in defense, but it didn't matter, it didn't change anything.

He didn't deserve this though! He was still a child, still innocent and good, not quite wise to the world around him.

He almost snorted in his bitterness, but managed to repress it; a child would know a parent's love. Harry wouldn't know a parent's love even if his dead mother walked up to him a hugged him tightly.

His innocence died with Cedric's death, Sirius' capture, the dementors' attacks, Vernon's daily beatings—

And his good, was he ever good? Harry squinted through the haze that plagued his mind and tried to swallow him into its inky depths. No; a voice told him quietly, in his ear as just a whisper, you aren't good. Never have been.

Then he lost consciousness, and his limp body was thrown back into the cupboard under the stairs.

"Why hasn't Harry written us?" A semi-distressed Sirius sat in some type of room or other, watching Remus do some of the most pointless paper work imaginable.

"I dunno Padfoot, maybe he's just too busy." He sighed, glancing at his watch again.

"He always writes back! And—and—" Sirius couldn't finish his sentence, a cold feeling of rejection settling in his stomach. What if Harry just, didn't want to speak with him? Was angry with him? Hated him?

He set his face in his hands, and any fight that'd been in him suddenly gone. But all through his feelings of not being wanted, and the guilt from being absent in Harry's life for so long, (thirteen years!) he just couldn't forget that worry, deep in his gut, that something had happened to his godson. That something was wrong.

He stood swiftly and left the room with an air of importance that was dampened only by the ragged state of the robes that flowed easily from his shoulders. He gathered a quill, some ink, and a roll of parchment so that he might send Harry a letter. He scowled at the kitchen table. Was this all he could do? Send little pieces of paper to his family and hope that they care enough to send them back? With a growl he began to write, it was all he could do, so cooped up in that dammed house.

_Dear Harry,_

_How are you? I'm really worried that you aren't answering any of my owls. Is something the matter, have the muggles been bothering you? You know you can tell me anything, tell me that you need help and I'll be there in a moment, wand at the ready. –_Here he started to get frustrated, angry even, and a little desperate to hear from his best friend's son.—_Just please, write back, I'm worried. I love you kiddo. _

_Sincerely,_

_Snuffles the Great _(it was his hope to be funny, maybe get harry to open up to him)

He creased the letter into three sections, and gave it to a slightly underworked owl who was peeved to have his sleep broken by Sirius' agitated prodding.

The letter never made it. Not quite.

"BOY!" Harry ran out of his cupboard like it was on fire, scared that he'd be lit with matches if he took his time to answer the call.

"Y-yes Un-Uncle V-Vernon?" He stuttered, standing straight, so as not to look like the heathen he was and kept his eyes down so as not to let Vernon think that he thought himself Vernon's equal.

"That no good godfather of yours—Black or whatever it is—he's sent you another dammed owl!" Harry gulped thickly, fear and anticipation clogging the inside of his mind. He hated this, when it happened. Harry had begun to wish, almost feverently, that Sirius would stop trying to help him, and just leave him alone. It wasn't like he could answer the letters, and the love that shone through his godfather's words were starting to become a worse torture than anything the Dursley's could come up with.

"'Dear Harry," the fat man sneered. "'How are you?'" Vernon's ugly, twisted face laughed. "As if anyone could care, how _you_ are!" But here, unbeknownst to Harry, his uncle had censored anything else that might make him feel like someone could, or did, love him. "'You know you can tell me anything, tell me that you need help and I'll be there in a moment, wand at the ready. Just please, write back… Snuffles'" Vernon restrained a squeal as he saw any lasting shred of hope die in his nephew's eyes. He could never call for help, the damn bird had been released into the wild quite a few weeks ago, probably had already been eaten by a wolf or something. Vernon gathered himself pompously and smiled at the young teen, almost warmly, if Harry hadn't known any better.

"Well then, boy, aren't you glad I let you know what your dear, ah, _Snuffles,_ had to say?" He laughed maniacally, and a shudder tore down Harry bruised back. Harry bowed to him, biting back angry tears.

"Yes sir, thank you very much sir." Vernon nodded to him.

"You can go back to your cupboard now." He tossed the parchment into the fire, and when Harry was stupid enough to watch the letter go up in flames rather than take his leave, Vernon's happy façade fell and he stood. "Little bastard." Harry heard the curse, and looked up, understandably terrified. A stubby hand took Harry's face like a baseball and shoved it into a wall, careful not to do it too hard only because he didn't want an ugly crack in the nice wall of his normal living room. Harry slid to the floor and grunted when his uncle's boot made contact with his stomach. Oh please—Harry thought helplessly—oh please. But he couldn't finish the thought; his mind was too muddled, too starved. Ten minutes later, Harry stumbled quickly to his cupboard, careful not to spill blood on his relative's perfect carpet.

The next morning, at the ungodly hour of 5:45am, Harry found himself where he was every morning, scrambling eggs, cooking bacon, and biting back sobs every time he moved wrong and spasms of pain made his mind reel. Of course, his range of mobility shrunk every time he'd been beaten, and he'd been beaten almost everyday that summer. Harry frowned into the liquid-y eggs that still swished around in the pan and wondered how he'd fallen so out of step with his relatives. They'd always hit him, but it only took a few years for him to figure out what to avoid to earn the full-blown beatings that he'd been suffering so far this summer.

He hadn't said 'magic' or 'wizard' or—or—had he?

Did Dudley gain more weight because he left too much grease in the bacon? Oh what if—

Could he have left too many weeds in the garden?

Mentioned his friends?

Mentioned school?

Spilled blood in the hall?

Tracked mud through the house?

Harry knew none of these could be true; he always did things quickly and efficiently. He didn't want to actually _deserve _the beatings he got! He painted quickly, cooked well, and kept his mouth shut. What could it be? But harry didn't really mind, it wasn't like he could do anything to make it all stop. He finished breakfast just as the Dursleys sat at the table. He made their dishes and set them in front of each in turn, then brought them their drinks. Chocolate milk for Dudley, Orange Juice for Petunia, and a coffee with three teaspoons of sugar and a half cup of milk for Vernon.

"Boy," Vernon hissed, letting his newspaper droop so that he could see the dread hit his nephew's eyes.

"Y-Yes Uncle V-Vernon?" he whispered, not trusting his voice to go much louder.

"You are still being punished and are not to sneak any food." Harry bowed. He'd expected as much, and was just grateful that it wasn't anything worse.

"Yes sir." He had eaten enough in the last month so that he wasn't dead, but he was still so hungry that his stomach didn't bother to growl at him anymore. His uncle told him his chores, which Petunia added to whenever she thought of something. It wasn't too bad, he did basically the same thing each day; cooked, cleaned inside the house, and weeded the outside. The only thing that actually bothered him were the beatings, not the work.

THREE DAYS LATER

Harry coughed, and was displeased to find blood in his hand. Why was he coughing up blood? That was never a good sign, he knew that. He curled up on his cot, hiding beneath the blanket and listening for any thud above him that might indicate someone coming down the stairs to command him to do something, or hit him. He hugged himself tightly and without meaning to; fell into a fitful sleep.

_Sirius was sitting just outside of the whomping willow's reach. _

"_Sirius!" Harry ran to the ragged man, too excited to feel embarrassed about crying, and missing his godfather so much. _

"_Wait boy." The escapee commanded, holding up his hand and avoiding Harry's eyes. Harry flinched at the name his uncle had given him. "Boy". He was called that so much at Privet Drive, he was sure that his relatives had forgotten his actual name. _

"_O-Okay. W-Why?" The teen asked, angry at the stutter that littered his question. Sirius stood up from the stump that he'd been sitting on. _

"_What. Questioning me now? Do you not trust me? It's not like you can trust anyone, can you?" He rubbed his face wearily. "Talking back to his own godfather." He'd muttered it under his breath, but Harry had heard anyways. Then he said louder, "Look, I'm sorry. I thought I loved you, but all it was was my missing James. I guess I just replaced him with you when we first met. I don't love you." He began to walk past Harry. "Sorry." He said again, then disappeared into the Forbidden Forest. Remus walked up to him, looking tired. _

"_Ah, Harry." He said, with a very slight wave. "I've been looking for you. I-I need to talk to you." Harry cringed at the guilt in his old professor's voice. _

"_Yes Professor? W-What is i-it?" Lupin pat Harry's shoulder distantly. _

"_I'm sorry Harry, it's just that…I have a lot of stuff on my shoulders, I'm very busy, and being a werewolf causes enough problems for me. I just can't help you. I know you're in a lot of pain, but I can't be bothered with your crap right now." Then he walked away, and disappeared into the forest as well. Harry bit his bottom lip and gripped his arm tightly, trying to fight back what threatened to kill him. He glanced up, trying to dry the tears._

_Cedric was standing right in front of him. Tears were trailing down the hufflepuff's face. His eyes were so accusing. _

"_Y-You know," his voice was cracking. "I wish I were like them!" He pointed to the woods. "If I'd been as smart as them, I'd have rid myself of you before you could kill me!" He fell to his knees and looked up at Harry. "W-Why Harry? W-Why did-d you k-kill me? I miss my D-Dad! Why w-would y-you do th-this t-to m-me?" His hands were palm up, and he looked up at Harry, his eyes desperate and his face crumpled with pain. Harry reached down to take Cedric, to hold him. To apologize to him. But as soon as his hand brushed his classmate's arm—Cedric fell to the ground. Dead._

Harry screamed. He sat up in his little cot in his dark little cupboard, his hoarse voice reaching volumes wrong for any human. He was disoriented, still at Hogwarts.

But reality hit him with a harsh swiftness. His jaw shut abruptly, and his teeth clicked together painfully. He waited silently, holding his blanket to his chest, and didn't dare to breathe, waiting for those heavy footsteps to warn him of the impending disaster.

_Thud_

_Thud_

_Thud_

_ Thud_

_Thud… _Harry bit back the fear that was inspired from his uncle's approach. The cupboard lock slid open, and the door flew open. Harry bit back another scream, and instead, held his hands above his head, preparing for what he knew would come. He heard the snap as the leather belt went over Vernon's head, and Harry tensed in answer. The stinging, burning of metal on flesh paraded along his back and arms, mercifully missing his head. Harry whimpered into his knees, trying to hide within himself so that he might not have to be aware of what was happening.

"You deserve this." Vernon hissed at him. But he didn't have to. No, Harry knew that. He knew he deserved everything his uncle had to give. "Nobody could love some bastard like you, waking everyone up at some horrible hour with your freakish shouts." Tears lit down Harry's face, and this time he didn't fight them, instead, he just settled for quieting his whimpers and sobs. For ten minutes, he bit and clawed on his knees, trying to hide from the pain that ate away at him from above. But then Vernon got tired and with a yawn, he tossed the belt onto Harry.

"Clean off the blood by tomorrow morning, you worthless piece of shit." Harry took the belt, but didn't trust himself to speak. If he opened his mouth, he probably just would have screamed even more. But luckily, Vernon was too sluggish to care or notice.

Harry silently wiped his blood off of the metal clasp off of his uncle's admittedly large belt and then sat there, staring into the darkness, not trusting himself to sleep again.


	2. Protect Her Son, Severus

Harry stood in the living room, a silver platter covered with an assortment of cookies resting on the palm of his right hand.

"Boy!" Harry kept his flinch in check and hurried to Vernon's side, offering him the sugary treats that he'd made earlier in the day.

"Here, Sir." Harry almost jumped when the bell rang, but quickly looking to his uncle for orders.

"Answer that you little shit, just let them in then come back here incase Dudley or Petunia should want a cookie." Harry bowed to him with a mumbled "Yes sir." Then rushed to the front door. He opened it timidly, peeking around the slab of wood and squinted into the sunlight, trying to see who it was. But as soon as he had, he'd wished he hadn't.

"P-Professors. W-What are y-you doing h-here?" To say he was shocked would be an understatement. Harry was first afraid that they'd come to tell him that he was no longer welcome at Hogwarts, but the smiles on Lupin and Dumbledore's faces told him otherwise. (he wasn't worried by Snape's scowl for obvious reasons)

"Why Harry, we've come to talk to your aunt and uncle, if you'll just show us in." Harry tried to smile, but he was aware that it showed itself as a grimace instead.

"Oh, of cour—"

"BOY!" Harry flinched, and remembered what Vernon had told him. Let them in the house, then return to serve the baked treats. His eyes went wide and he spun on his heel, fleeing into the kitchen where he'd left the platter. He returned to the living room and was immediately questioned by Uncle Vernon.

"Any reason you failed to do as I said?" He growled, taking more food from Harry. Harry shook his head, which only made him dizzy.

"N-No S-Sir." Harry sounded defeated even to himself.

"Well?" Aunt Petunia's commanding voice broke through. "Who was at the door?"

"Boy!" This time, Dudley was the one who wanted the treats Harry carried.

"A f-few of m-my p-professors, m-ma'am." Dudley took the cookie, not aware of his mother and father suddenly paling.

"WHAT?!" Vernon roared, suddenly on his feet, face purple, and spittle spraying all across the room. Harry scuttled to the wall, cookies still clasped tightly in hand. If he dropped them, he knew he'd just make things worse for himself.

The door suddenly swung open, and the three men saw their pupil, eyes wide in terror, pressed up against the wall as far as he'd go, and his uncle standing over him, fist raised and prepared to render him unconscious at any moment. He'd be able to do it in just a few swings too, Harry'd had so little to eat in so long—he wouldn't be able to handle three or four blows to the head anymore.

"Harry!" Lupin ran into the room, and tried to get himself between the two, but there was so little room, Vernon's hands were tangled in Harry's lapel, and held him so that just the tips of his shoes still touched the carpet. "Let him down!" Remus shouted, repulsed by the man, and horrified by what he was doing to the child.

"He's my nephew, I can do whatever the bloody hell I want with the bastard!" Harry just closed his eyes, and leaned his head back against the wall, and did what he could not to black out. His back was flaring with pain, the welts from the belt burning and his wrist—which he was sure was broken—was sending angry spasms of pain up his arm and all the way to his shoulder. Broken ribs made breathing almost impossible and the living room wouldn't stop blurring together and spinning.

"Expeliarmus!" Snape's voice split through Harry's foggy horror and Vernon was thrown backwards into the opposite wall. Harry slid to the floor, and Lupin kneeled down to help him up, but Harry just shook his head.

"Too dizzy, I'll get up soon's I can." He slurred. Lupin nodded, then stood and cast a silencing charm just as Petunia and Dudley let a pair of screams rip from their lips. Dumbledore rushed to Harry and looked him in the eye, and tried to reassess the boy's health with the new information he'd been presented with. A bruise ghosted along the child's jaw line, and his eyes were dead. He winced with a pain that Dumbledore could only begin to fathom, and hid his face like he expected nothing more than to be hit.

The headmaster stood gracefully and spun to the muggles, the twinkly gone from his kind eyes and his wand raised to gain control.

"Stupefy. Stupefy. Stupefy." Three Dursleys sank to the carpet, and were quickly bound. "I shall bring them to the ministry. They will be tried for what I am sure they have done to our dear Mr. Potter." He gifted them with one last glare before turning to his staff members. "I trust you can ensure Harry's safety as you bring him to Grimauld?" They both nodded and gave a quick bow before their boss disappeared in a loud pop with the bastards who'd dared touch their student like that.

Lupin took a quick step towards Harry, who looked up at him with wide and unfocused eyes. Remus reached down take Harry's hand, to touch his hair, anything to convince himself that the fifteen-year-old was still there, still okay.

But Harry lurched away, and his already-shallow breathing became uneven, his arms thrown up to protect himself. Remus looked down at the terrified teen in horror. Harry was afraid of him. The realization tore him up. Harry thought that he was going to hit him. He began to cover his face with his hands, completely unsure of what to do. But then to everyone's surprise, Snape gripped Lupin's shoulder in a level-headed way that brought the werewolf comfort even though none was meant. The potions master knealt down beside the boy, who was rocking back and forth, and didn't look anywhere but at his own feet. He knew what Potter had been going through, but he pushed that away. He felt guilty for not having seen it before and doing something. But he pushed that away.

He knew what Harry needed now, and he let himself focus on nothing else.

"Harry. It's okay. No one will hurt you, no one here will hurt you. We love you, we know you. You're okay, everything is okay. It's okay, it's okay. Don't worry, no one will hurt you. You're good, everything is good." He continued on like that, saying the same basic thing, over and over again, in a kind and quiet voice, scooting closer to the distressed boy. It was strange for Snape to try so hard to help someone, especially a student who looked exactly like his childhood tormentor, but it was even stranger for Lupin to watch Snape do whatever he could to help Harry.

Finally Harry slumped forward and murmured into his knees, "I'm sorry." Snape rubbed his hand along the boy's back so carefully that it was surprising if Harry was even aware of it.

"It's okay, you're forgiven. Let's go home, okay?" He helped the boy to his feet and held him close as they apparated to the head quarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Snape walked Harry up the steps to the front door and opened it carefully, trying to physically shield the boy from his own thoughts. But just as he opened the front door, something horribly sweet went horribly wrong.

"Harry!" The damned, cooped up animagus burst forward, expecting a vibrant teenage boy to jump into his arms with a smile on his face, and could barely recognize the deathly pale child cowering behind his life-long enemy Severus Snape.

"Erm…H-Hey S-Siri." Harry murmured from behind our dear greasy-haired potions professor. Sirius frowned at the pale face that peeked from behind Snape's robes. Who was this? It couldn't be—"Harry?" He tried to see around Snape's imposing figure, but Harry just moved away.

"Y-Yes?" He answered. Snape rolled his eyes and turned to face the Gryffindor.

"Harry, why don't you go upstairs? The third down on the right on the second floor is your bedroom." Harry let his death grip on Snape's robes loosen, then fled to the promised privacy that he required if he was going to allow himself to cry.

"Snape!" Sirius rounded on the hated man. "He's my godson, and you're just trying to keep away from me! What have you done?" Snape just sneered at him, all compassion gone from his features.

"Wait! Sirius, Snape helped Harry. I-I couldn't. I didn't know what to do, but Severus did, and that's the only reason Harry's here in one piece to begin with!" Lupin ran up and pulled his fellow marauder away from the fight he so wanted to start.

"What do you mean? Didn't something h-happen to Harry?" Lupin steered Sirius from the entrance hall and into the living room, sitting him down on the sofa. By this time, Mrs. Weasley came into the room to see what was making such a commotion.

"You should probably be here for this too Molly." Lupin sighed, motioning to a chair tiredly.

"I'm going to check on the boy, he'll need some care, but I need to know the extent of the damage—"

"Actually Severus, you could explain this better than myself. I'm sure Harry will be fine, it seemed to be more emotional than physical." Lupin sat down and indicated to Severus that he should as well.

"What's wrong with my godson? What do you mean, "emotional"? "Physical"? Did someone hurt him?!" Sirius was getting agitated, Lupin could tell, but Snape seemed to be somewhere else entirely, if his faraway look was any indication.

"Well? Severus?"

The dark man looked up, almost surprised that someone had called his name.

"Hmm. Yes, well. From my experience, Potter's relatives have been abusing him quite severly for several years at least. Definitely physically, and I'm quite sure it was emotional too, but that is more difficult to be sure of." He said it all quietly, a mask on his emotions. The guilt of not having seen it sooner was creeping back to him. Sirius stood, and snorted in disbelief.

"Your 'experience'? Which is what? Sniveling slytherins whose parents didn't immediately get them the newest broom model?!" Severus looked on him calmly. Or was that just his mask?

"Black, my father was a mean drunk." He stood with a flourish of black robes and strode to the staircase. "I'll see to his injuries now, if you'd be so kind." He swept up the stairs and out of view. Molly kept weeping in her chair and Lupin walked over to her and offered her what comfort he could. But Sirius just stood in the middle of the room, staring at the empty space that once held Snape's calm demeanor. Telling him that those—muggles—had hurt his godson. Had—abused him.

UPSTAIRS

"Potter?" Snape opened the door, ever so slightly, and caught the young boy hugging his knees to his chest, staring into space, his expression haunted. He let the door snap shut, and when Harry flinched, and looked his direction, wide-eyed, he quickly reprimanded himself for the nasty mistake he'd made. "Sorry." He murmured, leaving the door open a crack. He walked slowly to Harry, who sat cross-legged now, and pulled a few potions from various interior pockets. "These will mask any pain that might be made worse by the examination." Harry took them gratefully, and then looked Snape right in the eye.

"Thank you sir, but please. Don't treat me like any wrong move will break me. I'm not that weak." Snape skillfully hid his surprise at the teen's strength and unwavering voice.

"Yes, well, sit and remove your shirt." Snape pulled a small fabric bag from with the folds of his robes, it was his emergency bag where he kept potions that were almost always needed: blood repletion, pain relievers, poly juice, healing potions, almost anything.

"Uh, yeah, Professor, about that? Really, I'm fine, I just have a bruise or two, there's really no need for—" Snape reached out and jabbed his index finger into Harry's side roughly. He winced and pulled away quickly, breathing hard again.

"Ah yes, obviously everything is fine and dandy." Snape looked Harry in the eye and gave him the most piercing gaze he could. "I won't tell anyone what I see in here. I will tell them only if you are "okay" or "not okay" nothing more." Harry swallowed thickly and nodded his head. Snape nodded in response, then went to rummage in his bag. "Now please, Mr. Potter. Remove. Your. Shirt." Harry frowned down at the rumpled bed beneath him, and with a pained wince, peeled the ratty cloth from his body. If Snape hadn't been so practiced in hiding emotions and thoughts, he would have gasped and taken a few steps back, but he knew that reacting like that would just make things worse for the child.

Scars, new and old, accented his flesh horrendously. Harry's natural skin color didn't actually show through the angry, dark bruises, old blood that had dried over deep cuts cracked and flaked off whenever he moved. There were some cuts that still bled, somewhat lethargically. Snape breathed deeply through his nose and winced at the smell. He couldn't believe that he hadn't smelled it before; an overpowering smell of blood and vomit that just seemed to emanate from the bitter-looking teen.

"Right well, take these first." He handed Harry the light blue potion first, it was a healing potion, one that felt like ice and acted just like an icepack that would spread itself throughout the body. Then he gave him a pain killer, a dark green potion that constantly swirled sluggishly within the vial. It would fog Potter's mind for an hour or two, but it would numb the sting, and the burn, and the soreness that Snape knew he was suffering through. Snape bit back a smile when Harry drank them quickly and looked to his professor all too gratefully.

"Thank you, sir." He sounded like he'd given up, but Severus didn't think it was a bad sign. If he'd had much fight left in him, he'd take it all out on the people that were trying to help him and everything seemed to be against the boy, he didn't need for his own actions to deter his healing.

"Your welcome, Harry." He murmured, aware that it might have been the first time that he spoke to his enemy's son by his first name, and without contempt. Harry glanced at him, and Snape knew by the look on Harry's face that he'd noticed it too. Snape opened the door a crack and took a step into the hall. He elbowed his way through the small crowd that'd congregated outside the door.

"Well?!" Sirius shouted, getting in his face. Severus looked down his crooked nose at the convict. He entered the bathroom and gathered a handful of washcloths into a bucket, and filled it with lukewarm water. He exited and made his way back to his patient's room. "Snape! Answer me!" The dog grabbed Snape and forcibly stopped him. Snape was used to this though. He knew the contempt of others well, especially that of one Sirius Black. "Snape!" Sirius shook him a little, and there was a terrified look in his eyes, and worry drew deep lines on his face.

"Black. You know what the boy's been through—do you really think that shouting in anger right outside his door is a good idea?" His voice was frigid. _He _knew what Potter was going through, not this filthy ex-Gryffindor. He _knew_ what to do, and he didn't want to have to deal with the ignorant friends of Harry Potter who had no idea how to help him, but still insisted on hindering those who _did_. Sirius' face fell and his mouth clamped shut. He had _yelled_ practically in front of his godson, and after everything he'd been through. He dropped his hold on his childhood foe and took a step back. He stood there limply. "If you'll excuse me, Potter needs me to tend to him." He swept towards the room, but was stopped again by Sirius.

"How is he? I can help—I just need to see him!" The poor man was so distressed that Snape would've felt bad for him, if he hadn't known who the dog was all during their days at Hogwarts.

"You might feel that need, but trust me when I say that right now, Harry does not. You cannot help him right now, and I will tell you only if he is okay, but I've promised not to go any deeper than that." Sirius' eyes lit up angrily again.

"You've _promised?!_ I don't care, I deserve to know, he's MY GODSO—" Severus towered over him, his eyes cold and furious.

"Shut your mouth, you disgusting mutt." He hissed. "If you'll take a minute to think, you'll find that I made that promise to Potter, and he's only letting me see to his wounds because of that promise." Sirius took a step back in shock and Severus took this as an opportunity to slip back into the bedroom.

Harry sat with his back to the door, knees bending with the side of the bed. He sat curled on himself, his elbows on his knees and his hands covering his face. He turned at the sound of the door opening and closing, and the look on his face was torture to even Snape's frozen Slytherin heart.

"Thank you, sir. I could—could hear." He gestured to the door behind his professor. Snape just nodded, not willing to let his pupil's words truly affect him, because if they did, he would loose his composure. He set down the bucket, and wrung out a cloth in the bucket, then sat on the bed behind Harry.

"This will sting some, Potter. But the pain reliever potion ought to numb that." Harry nodded, but didn't trust himself to speak. Snape set the cool cloth on the boy's back and rubbed gently, washing so carefully the dried blood from the boy's back. Harry hissed with pain and shock every time the rag went over a particularly tender spot, and Snape, despite his rational way, flinched every time Harry's muscles tensed in pain. Snape groaned silently when he realized that he could count every single rib that lined the boy's sides. He was horrified to see that there were places where he could see distinct handprints, and even dark finger-shaped bruises shadowed past strangulations on his throat. Snape bit back a growl; he couldn't fight the protectiveness that he felt for any child who might've been beaten by any adult in their life.

"You should talk about it." Snape muttered. "That godfather of yours is open, he's just about giving himself a heart-attack out in the hallway. Harry didn't answer. But Snape knew what that meant, anyone would.

"It will make thinking about it easier. Everything is in your mind with no outlet, and if it stays like that it will cause you to rot." He'd cleaned the last bit of blood and bandaged what he had to, put splints on his arm and ankle then went to stand in front of Harry. He forced the boy to look into his eyes. "Harry, I'm telling you. Nobody noticed when it was happening to me." Oh god, his voice was not his own, spilling his secrets with a treacherous quiver. "I've never talked to anyone about it, and look how I've turned out. Please talk to somebody." Harry gazed at him with wide emerald eyes, tearing at Snape's heart again. They really were Lily's eyes, weren't they? He nodded quickly, his face pasty and bruised. His large eyes were just starting to tear, but not actually spilling over. Snape could see it in his face that the boy would at least try. He stood and briskly collected his things and made to leave. "Potter? If you tell anyone of our conversations over this past day, you'll have to suffer through _my_ detentions for the rest of your time in Hogwarts." A hint of a grin, both timid and pale, ghosted at the corners of Harry's lips. Severus opened the door without looking back again, and a realization struck him.

He wanted to help Harry. That surprised Snape, I mean, did he really? He looked back at the closed door, contemplating for a moment. Did Harry know that? That he could talk about all of this shit with his potions professor? Snape definitely hoped so, because he certainly didn't have enough courage to tell him so.

**A/N- Whoa, I didn't mean to write that much, and my dad's annoyed with me for being up so late writing (haha) This still isn't beta-ed,**

**Thanks to fanfic-nerd-101 for story alerting me ******** *happy dance* can't wait to see what happens, I'll admit, I only have a few clues as to how'll this will take course, but other than that… review me, tell me anything, I always welcome opinions on my writing or diction, you won't hurt my feelings, I promise. Even tell me ideas that you have, or how you want the plot to come about, suggestions are cool. **

**See you next time!**


	3. Don't Look At Me, Dear Godfather

**A/N: Sorry this one's short, but it seemed like a good place to stop… **

**You know, I just saw the movie Milk, and god, Dan White… *AARGH!!!*** **It was funny though, my friend and I were the youngest there, so a guy sat in front with a piece of cardboard to keep it PG-13 for us! Haha**

**What is it that society is teaching us again? Oh yeah, shower the ones you love with expensive crap… If you love me, shower me with alerts and reviews (thank you, fanfic-nerd-101, cedarwings (), and Mas-kun the Chibi FoxMonkey) **

**Now please, let's continue with the story ******

"Well?" Sirius whispered, now careful of his tongue. "Is Harry okay?" Snape looked at him, trying to quickly to replace his emotionless mask.

"A difficult question."

He said, trying to inject his usual sneer and sarcasm. Sirius just kept watching him though, waiting for some answer or another. Snape sagged slightly for a minute, but then once again, composed himself. "I've bandaged him, and splinted any broken bones—" he ignored Sirius' low growl. "—he's taken a healing potion; there are more on the table for him to take. Three times a day. He took a pain reliever, so he'll be consistently groggy for the next day or two. I've left a handful of those with him as well, but I don't suggest he use too many of them. They're known to be habit forming, and we both know he wouldn't like that." Sirius nodded, and his eyes were following Severus' every move, trying to find some kind of salvation from the worry and fear that plagued him. He nodded quickly and ran to the door, ready to burst in, but Severus stopped him.

"What?" Sirius asked impatiently. He wanted to see Harry!

"N-Nothing." Snape responded, dropping the other man's arm. He did want to help Harry, tell Sirius what to expect from a victim of abuse, but he couldn't stand up to his childhood tormentor anymore. He just wanted to go home where things hadn't changed, where they still made sense, and he could just relax.

The door swung open with a bang, and Harry flinched, spinning suddenly around, hands slightly raised in automatic defense. He'd slipped on a new shirt that he'd pulled out of his trunk, it hid most of the marks on his skin, but a few bandages showed through and the bruises on his throat were faintly evident. The cuts on his hands, which were fading, peeked through, and the sleeves unfortunately molded plainly around the splint that held his arm in place. Harry was very aware of all of the not-so-little marks that showed to the public, and was even more ashamed of them.

Sirius rushed towards him, and raised his arms in a sweeping motion so as to hug his much-missed godson. Harry flinched away from the arms that came towards him, but that went unnoticed by Sirius, and didn't deter him in the slightest. He hugged harry tightly, burying the half-starved boy in his admittedly much larger frame. Harry jerked away from the sudden contact, and scrambled back onto the bed, his eyes wide with unseen horrors. Sirius' arms fell, as did his happy expression. Rejection washed through him, as he saw Harry sit there, terrified of him.

"S-Sorry." Harry muttered into his knees. Sirius composed himself, and pushed his own sadness to the back of his mind.

"It's alright, kid. I understand." But really, he didn't. Harry's eyes had dulled a long time ago, and Sirius didn't even really know why. People just threw around the word "abuse", but what did that mean? Abuse, abuse, abuse. He looked closer at Harry, really taking everything in for the first time since he was thirteen.

The boy's skin clung to his skeleton, and his downcast eyes were haunted. He was so pale that the dark bruises just showed up all the more. Bandages poked through the end of his sleeves, and he could see the shape of a splint on his arm.

"How many broken bones?" He asked, his voice hushed. Harry glanced up at him in surprise, and the look on his face clearly told Sirius that he really didn't want to reveal anything about what he'd been through, but Sirius didn't retract his question.

"M-my arm. My ankle. A few ribs." Sirius frowned, trying to reign in his rage at those damned muggles.

"What did they use?" He wanted to know all of the details before he went to Privet Drive to torture the bastards. Harry took one quick look at him, and then shook his head, refusing to fuel the fury so evident in his godfather's eyes. Padfoot growled deep in his chest, upset that the boy wouldn't talk to him. "Harry, you'll have to talk about it." He used his best authoritative voice, but Harry just flinched away from the harsh tone. He looked up at the man, and Sirius nearly gasped at the hurt and fear in Harry's eyes. Was Harry afraid that he'd be hit? Sirius shook his head tiredly.

"I'm sorry, Harry. Just—get some rest. I need to go talk to the Order downstairs. He walked past the bed, and out the door, watching _his_ child the whole time. Harry did as he was told, he took off his shoes, and he lay on the bed. But he didn't sleep. He couldn't, knowing what his subconscious had in store for him.

DOWNSTAIRS

"What happened?" Molly asked, she sat beside Arthur, stirring her tea anxiously. Lupin looked down at his hands, clasped together, and resting on the wooden table.

"Severus, Dumbledore, and I went down to pick Harry up from his relatives, everything was going just as planned. I was so excited to see him but—well, he answered the door and seemed a little dazed. I thought it was just because he wasn't expecting us, but then his uncle called for him. He paled, if you can believe it's possible, and ran for his uncle. We found him in the living room, a silver platter covered with food in his hand. That fat cousin of his shouted 'Boy!' and Harry rushed to him, offering him the platter. When he answered his Uncle, telling him who we were, he grabbed Harry by the lapel and shoved him into the wall, I—I just—he was so pale, and I could tell he was trying not to pass out. When we stunned the muggles, Harry apologized and couldn't stand. I reached down to touch him, and he shied away from me. It was—I dunno, just really frightening." Sirius stared into space, his face contorted with rage.

"Where are those scumbags now?" Arthur asked with his face darker than anyone had ever seen it.

"Dumbledore bound them and brought them to the ministry. I expect they'll be brought to trial soon." Lupin said; glad that the monsters would face some sort of justice, but unsettled knowing what would happen to Harry when he was brought to testify against them. He'd have to relive everything for strangers to see. The fire place behind them burst into green flames and none other than Albus Dumbledore stepped through. He looked grave and his eyes were shadowed.

"Oh! Albus," Molly stood, ushering Hogwarts' headmaster into a vacant seat. "You've been at the ministry, have you? Lupin told us you were turning in those blasted muggles." Albus weakly smiled and nodded slowly.

"Cornelius didn't seem to understand the atrocities that they were responsible for." He frowned darkly.

"Let me guess, it stopped making sense the moment Harry's name was mentioned." Lupin rolled his eyes hatefully. But Dumbledore's lips just quirked into a sad smile.

"Well, yes, actually."

"Those bastards!" Sirius roared, banging his fist on the table and waking his dearest mum. Tonks shot up and ran to close the curtains before the shrieking remnants of a dark wizarding family could wake their young charge.

"Well, he'll put them on trial at least, right?" Mr. Weasley asked he looked a little ill, like he wasn't sure that the answer would be yes. But Dumbledore quickly assured him that they would be.

"When—?" Molly's voice shivered, they all knew how harsh it would be for Harry to testify. He wouldn't actually sit and say anything to a jury, but he would have to place copies of his relevant memories within a blank pensive. Then the entire court would sit and watch as it all played out. Then the defendant (in this case the Dursleys) would, well, defend themselves from whatever the prosecutor remembered.

Harry was required to be there, and not a single person in that room was delusional enough to think that it wouldn't harm Harry to see everything again, and see complete strangers and his closest friends watch his dirty secrets.

"Well, we shall cross that bridge when we come to it." Lupin murmured tiredly. "But for now, we should all follow Harry's lead and get some sleep." They all nodded, stifling yawns and in some cases, tears, but not a single one thought that their dear savior might be upstairs with his eyes wide, scared by the promise of nightmares that swirled deep within his subconscious.

.net/s/4322552/1/My_Brain_Slug


	4. I'm Not Really Hungry

Rays of golden sunlight fought through the nasty window to meagerly light the musty bedroom. Harry'd been sitting there for God-knows how long, and was getting antsy and his injuries were starting to flare up again. He rolled over sleepily and uncorked another translucent potion. He downed it with a gulp or two, and sighed at the coolness that spread from his stomach to his fingertips, soothing all of his soreness and burns.

After five minutes of his bliss, he grew bored of laying there, and tired of tracing the patterns on the ceiling in his mind. With an angry huff, he threw himself off of the bed, and did his best to keep all of his weight off of his broken ankle. He limped out of the room and down the hall, holding to the stair's railing as though his life depended on it. Harry wobbled down another hallway, looking for some sign of intelligent life, but too afraid to call out. He heard a scuffle, and some quite, tuneless humming that came from behind a door to his left, so he opened it quietly, frightened as to what might be hidden behind the inch-thick wood. Mrs. Weasley was bustling around a small kitchen, stirring the contents of some pots and tasting others before adding some spice or other.

With a silent sigh, the exhausted teen leaned heavily into the door frame, and contented himself to watch the motherly figure do motherly things. But after a minute or two of this, Mrs. Weasley turned in his direction and saw him standing there, still breathing with difficulty from his broken ribs and the energy he expanded getting all the way down there.

"Oh, Harry! Dear, you shouldn't be up and walking around, you need to recuperate. Let that ankle heal some before you go and make it worse!" She smiled at him, ladle in one hand and both hands on her hips. Harry smiled at her apologetically and it made her heart break. He looked so lost at his sudden change in environment, and the bruises and paleness that rampaged his deathly thin face helped none whatsoever. She scrutinized his form closely, until he was noticeably uncomfortable, then she gestured to the chair nearest him. "Well, sit!" She demanded, she didn't know why he chose to stand there gawking when he could've been sitting there gawking. He jerkily vacated the doorway and sat in the offered chair, paling when he accidently knocked his arm on the back of the chair. Molly clucked disapprovingly, more at his state than his clumsiness. She'd spent most of last night and all of that morning preparing herself not to react drastically to her raven-head son. Sirius had told her (in utmost confidence) about Harry's reactions to him. It worried her deeply, and all she really wanted to do was wrap Harry in a hug so warm and tight that everything bad that trapped the boy would just melt away. But then, not even Molly was that dense.

"Sweetie, what would you like for breakfast? We have eggs, sausage, bacon, toast, and french toast. We also have orange juice, water, milk, and pumpkin juice, for something to drink." Harry's drawn face twisted for a moment, but Molly couldn't tell why.

"I—I um… don't know. Sorry, I—" Harry started, not really able to finish anything coherent. Molly cut off his poor attempts at speaking.

"That's quite alright dear, I'll just get you a little of everything." She beamed down at him. "You definitely need some fattening." She had to hold back a shudder at the understatement. It wouldn't do Harry any good to see a negative reaction from her in regards to him. She knew how sensitive the poor dear was.

Harry winced as soon as Mrs. Weasley turned her back. This was one of those things he really hated about seeing his best-friend's mom. After not eating for so long, food eventually just lost its appeal to him. It'd even begun to repulse him. He liked that she doted on him, but he just didn't know how to react to it all! After spending months flipping back and forth between complete solitude and hunger to shouts and beatings, his subconscious couldn't believe that it'd stopped and wouldn't happen again for a very long time.

A minute later, Mrs. Weasley had placed two plates stacked with breakfast and a glass filled to the brim with pumpkin juice. Harry inwardly groaned, knowing that he'd only be able to finish off a piece of toast, and maybe an orange, with a few sips of the pumpkin juice. But that was it. He was already a little nauseous by the sight and smell of everything that'd been placed before him… but he really didn't want to offend the single mother figure in his life. Harry ate what he could, and tried to hide any show of disgust when he thought about actually ingesting any bacon or sausage. Meat was just so heavy—and the smell of grease turned him green. He didn't want to be a burden on the kind woman, and she'd gone to all of the trouble to cook so much—he was so ungrateful. But that was who Harry'd always been, he was ungrateful and completely unable to change.

"So Mrs. Weasley, if you're here, does that mean that Ron is too?" Molly looked up at him from the steaming tea clamped tightly between her hands.

"Hm? No, sorry dear. Ron and everyone are back at the burrow, even Hermione. Arthur too, we don't want to leaves those kids alone, now do we?" She smiled at him apologetically, the boy's stay would probably be so easier, and he'd be able to heal more smoothly if he had his best friends to help him. She'd have to talk to Sirius and Dumbledore about that later today. Harry nodded, and went back to playing with his food. He smiled faintly at how Mrs. Weasley had said that they didn't want to leave the kids alone. That either meant that she didn't trust Fred and George to _not _burn the house down, or she didn't trust Ron and Hermione to keep their hands to themselves. (and thus, destroying the innocence she thought Ginny might have left) Of course Harry knew that the real reason was that they were afraid to leave their children vulnerable to an attack from Voldemort or his followers. But Harry liked to entertain himself with normal, happy un-wartime reasons.

"Sweetie? Harry?" Molly startled him from his rhythmic stabbings. He looked sheepishly down at the smashed and jumbled eggs, then glanced up at the red-headed woman.

"Erm, yes Mrs. Weasley?" He asked timidly.

"Dear, why aren't you eating?" She gestured to his basically-empty plate. He put his fork down, and refused to look her in the eye. His hands folded in his lap and he began to stutter again.

"I-I'm s-sorry, M-Mrs. Weasley. I-I just—erm—" he began to fiddle with the hem of his shirt. Molly immediately regretted pointing it out, after all, she knew what he'd gone through, and it was obvious how all of the negative and strange things that Harry exhibited were, unfortunately, effects of the Dursley's abuse.

"It's alright sweetie." She reached out and took his arm warmly. He flinched away, and she quickly pulled her arm back. Even she'd made him uncomfortable! She tried to ignore the suddenly uncomfortable moment, and rushed back into what she'd been trying to say. "You don't have to eat it all, but try to eat." She was worried that he'd return to his shell after she brought up his lack of appetite. But she was pleasantly surprised by a hesitant smile from her 'son'.

The door swung open, and closed again, almost silently. Harry and Mrs. Weasley looked up to see Lupin walking in, Daily Prophet under his arm and dark bags under his eyes.

"Oh well, good morning Remus! What would you like for breakfast?" She asked brightly, starting to stand, and heading for the kitchen. But Lupin stopped her.

"Thank you, Molly, but I'll just have some coffee, and I can brew it myself." Molly scowled at him, then let her expression soften.

"Fine, but you'll have an extra helping of lunch." She said firmly. Lupin studied her face for a moment, then smiled tightly, and sighed mock-dramatically.

"Deal." He groaned, grinning at Harry. Lupin's eyes hadn't really left the back of the child's head since he spotted it, and now he sat next to James' son.

Harry stiffened at the sudden close contact, but tried to force himself to ignore it.

This is Professor Lupin! His rationality pointed out in exasperation. Professor Lupin wouldn't hurt you. Harry held back a groan. He knew that! Professor Lupin was kind, and very gentle—but years of habit won't die out just because I know that. Harry's rationality agreed, and sat back to let him try to force down another piece of toast.

"So Harry, how are you feeling this morning?" Lupin asked, studying Harry's reaction closely. Harry gulped, and looked down at the table. He knew for a long time that he was going to be asked that, and frankly he was surprised and thankful that Mrs. Weasley hadn't already demanded from him an in depth assessment of his physical and mental well-being.

"I'm fine, Professor, how are you?" He asked politely, still not looking up from the table. Lupin reached out to clasp the boy's shoulder, but thought better of it when Harry jerked away from his upraised hand.

"I'm quite alright." He responded quietly, distracted by the realization that Harry was playing with his food, not eating it. A smile ghosted over his lips, and he realized that Harry must be really nervous if he wasn't eating by the shovelful like any other teenaged boy would.

"Harry, is something wrong? You've barely touched your food." He said quietly, smiling down at the poor anxious child. Harry frowned at the table, unwilling to look at his old professor.

"N-No sir. I-I'm just not h-hungry." He mumbled, too lost in thoughts about food and the lack thereof to notice much around him. Mrs. Weasley returned from the kitchen where she'd made Lupin some coffee. She'd taken the chance when he sat down, distracted by Harry. She slipped some toast under his nose too, but she was dubious if he'd even notice it.

Lupin was surprised that Harry wasn't hungry, look at the boy! A mild wind could knock him to the ground. But then a horrible realization struck him. It was obvious the Dursley's were withholding food, but that could only go so far before Harry starved. Lupin turned green and had to fight the bile down. Had they kept so much food from him, that he stopped feeling hungry? Had his stomach gotten used to being empty, and just gave up growling? Lupin pushed away the toast that lay innocently beneath him. How could somebody do that to another living being? He frowned at Harry, lost in his own thoughts, and not once lifting his coffee mug (where did this mug come from? And the toast? How out of it was he?) to his mouth to drink.

"Um, Professor?" Lupin startled out of his reverie to look down at the youth.

"Yes Harry? What is it?" He asked gently, glad that the boy was comfortable enough to start a conversation with him, maybe ask him for help.

"Could you erm—please stop staring at me? It—It's rather d-distracting." Harry didn't look up from the table one time, and tensed his muscles, probably without realizing it. Lupin reprimanded himself silently and quickly looked away.

"Sorry Harry, I was just spacing out, and didn't realize what I was doing." He took a rather long sip at his coffee, and took to staring at the opposite wall. Harry smiled faintly when he felt the pressure of Lupin's stares lessen. He knew it was a lie—Lupin was studying him closely, not letting his mind wander—but Harry was grateful for the excuse. He could pretend that he hadn't caught someone's interest, he could definitely just brush it off with Lupin's pretext. Things went on like that for another ten or fifteen minutes, both parties staring at opposite sides of the room, ignoring the delicious food in front of them.

But then Tonks made her way downstairs.

"FILTHY BLOOD TRAITORS AND BASTARD HALF-BREEDS!! NO-GOOD TRAITORS LETTING SCUM INTO MY HOME!!!—" The voice was quickly silenced, but Harry still looked utterly bewildered at the horrible sound.

"A portrait of the previous owner of this place." Lupin explained. "She put a permanent sticking spell on the back of the painting, and we haven't yet figured out how to peel her off of the wall." Tonks stumbled into the room, her spiky bubble gum-pink hair flat on one side of her head and pointing everywhere on the other side. She yawned thickly and plopped herself into a chair, totally ignoring the other occupants of the room. She was grumbling something under her breath, and she set her head on the table, eyes closed and breathing a little too evenly to be considered awake.

"This Harry is Nymphadora Tonks. But trust me when I say that she goes by her surname and her surname only." The woman nodded, her face not leaving the table. Harry smiled, he could tell already that he'd like the woman.

"I go by my last name a lot too—but then again, I'm in trouble a lot so that might be why." Harry whispered, smiling down at his still-untouched breakfast. Lupin laughed, and Tonks smiled at the wall.

"So where's Sirius?" Tonks asked through a yawn. Harry was glad too, he'd been wondering the same thing. Lupin laughed lightly.

"Well, if unless he's changed any since we were kids, he should be up in time for lunch. If we're lucky." Tonks snickered into her hand. Harry smiled briefly too.

"I heard that." A disgruntled voice said from the door behind them. Harry jumped and spun around, but it was only Sirius. He calmed down some, but wasn't comfortable yet with someone at his back, so he didn't go back to fiddling with the French toast on his plate until Sirius had heaved himself across the room and into the seat opposite Harry.

"So, Harry, how are you?" He asked, sounding very interested, nosy even if one didn't know how they were related. Harry tried not to groan, he probably wouldn't get away with the same response as he did with Lupin. Might as well try though.

"I'm fine, a little sore. How are you?" Sirius frowned at him thoughtfully, and took a piece of toast from Remus, and chewed it slowly. Harry tensed beneath his scrutiny, but didn't say anything.

"I'm fine." He replied, still watching his godson. There was a loud scraping sound and a chair fell over.

"OHMYGOD!" Tonks stood up violently, and ran her hands through her hair, making it all stand up crazily. Harry jerked away from her and sort of huddled into himself until he heard the rest of what she had to say. "I'M LATE AGAIN!" She straightened her shirt with one hand, and reached over the table to grab Lupin's last piece of toast before sprinting for the fireplace. Sirius roared with laughter, earning him a death glare from Tonks, and Lupin just chuckled behind his hand.

"Tonks works for the ministry." He informed Harry. "She's an auror, despite the clumsiness." Harry smiled tightly, still shocked from the sudden noise and violent movement. The fire flared green and the woman vanished into it and a moment later, it turned green again, this time with a man entering the room.

"Ah, Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley burst into the room and gave her husband a hug.

"Hello Molly dear. Before you ask, yes. The children are fine." Molly smiled up at him.

"Good. Now sit, breakfast is ready." Mr. Weasley looked at Harry's plate and nodded.

"Yes, I can see that." He sat next to Harry, where Tonks had previously fled from, and looked him in the eye. "Harry, we have to talk." Harry could only muster a timid nod, and hoped to god that the man meant about spark plugs or fellytones, anything but the Dursleys. Molly set a steaming mug and a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her husband, then sat next to him, at the head of the table.

"Harry, your relatives are in magical custody right now, and are awaiting a trial. Harry nodded nervously, he didn't know where Mr. Weasley was going with this, but the man spoke slowly and cautiously, and it gave Harry the feeling that whatever it was that he was trying to say. It did not bode well for Harry.

"In wizard court, the prosecutor, which is you, needs to put copies of all of his memories related to the crime into a pensieve to show the court." Harry's eyes grew wide. He was going to have to relive all of that, and then let people _watch_ it?!

"No." He said quietly, but firmly. "I will not testify. I don't care if they go free, it really doesn't matter to me."

**A/N: Yeah, I rhymed at the end, which I think might have taken from the seriousness, but whatever **

**-_-' In the next chapter (because this time, I totally know what's going to happen next) Ron and Hermione will make an entrance, maybe Ginny? And really it will just be trying to get Harry to open up, and to testify. If anyone knows anything about court vernacular, I'd appreciate it if you shared your knowledge, because I'm not even sure if I'm using the term 'prosecutor' correctly, I'm just making educated guesses based on root words. I mean, I watch Law & Order, but I don't actually **_**pay attention**_

**Erm… OH YEAH *dances* did you know I have more story alerts than I do chapters?! I don't see how the two are really relevant but that doesn't matter to me much ******

**I'd like to tip my hat to my reviewers for sending nice things, but wag my finger at my reviewers for only saying nice things (Colbert reference, kudos for anyone who gets it!)**

**See you next time ******

.net/s/4322552/1/My_Brain_Slug


	5. I Can't Let Them See My Secrets

"How're we going to convince him to testify?" Arthur asked tiredly, after Harry'd been sent upstairs.

"I don't think that's necessarily our question—" Lupin looked uncertain, like he wasn't sure if he should continue, but by now everyone was focusing on him intently. He looked away, not really sure what to do now that he'd lost his courage to finish his thought.

"I agree." Molly spoke up, seeing that Remus wasn't about to. "If Harry doesn't want to testify, then we shouldn't make him, after all, going through something like that could leave him even more crippled than he already has been." Sirius watched her and Lupin share a look, and he felt torn. They were right, what if they only managed to hurt Harry even worse? Would it really be okay for them to make him do this, even if he did actually want to?

"Molly, Remus, I am not denying that it will be difficult for young Harry. It will be painful for him, but that is the point. After he works through all of what he's been through, he will have a sense of closure. He will have grown and become stronger, more confident." Dumbledore set his finger tips together and studied the other occupants of the room. He could see it in their eyes that they saw his logic, even if they didn't like it. Harry would have to testify.

"We just need to talk him, I'm sure he'll come around." Sirius mumbled, still worried about his godson.

"I dunno, Harry can be pretty stubborn." Lupin replied, shaking his head tiredly.

"I know, but I'll try all the same." Sirius heaved himself up and turned to the stairs. The other adults watched him going up, none quite envious of his position. They loved the boy, but Sirius was attempting the impossible.

HARRY'S ROOM

A knock on the door.

"Harry?" Sirius poked his head in through the doorway. Harry looked up from the book he was reading. He seemed surprised, but Sirius was relieved to find that Harry didn't seem uncomfortable that they were alone together. He went to close the door behind him, but left it opened at Harry's request. He sat down next to the boy, as close as he could without actually touching him.

"Harry, why don't you want to testify?" Sirius asked, Harry looked at him, slightly bewildered, and took a minute to try and collect his thoughts, but Sirius quickly cut him off with a violent shake of his head. "Wow, what did I just say? Like it isn't obvious! Who'd want to testify? But, but Harry—" he looked deep into the teen's eyes, but still managed to miss the amusement in them. "—you need to face this, head on! Or else, or else it'll just torture you forever, and you'll be miserable and—and—um—what?" Harry was trying so hard not to laugh outright at his godfather's rant, and Sirius noticed that, but he was having trouble figuring out why. "What's so funny?" He demanded, not sure if he should be annoyed or pleased.

"You seem so aggravated, and I can't really tell why. Yeah, I don't want to testify. And also: yeah, it is obvious why." Harry looked away, now keeping his eyes from those of his godfather. Sirius sighed, and cracked his neck.

"Yeah, pretty much. But you need to testify. Even if you don't want to, it's really important that you do. In the long run, it'll help you. It'll be scary, and it'll hurt, but it'll help you, it'll make you stronger." Harry still refused to look up. He didn't want to be strong anymore. He'd had enough with square shoulders and frozen screams on bloody lips. He'd had enough with emotionless masks, and pushing off the worried questions of the people that said they loved him. But here was the one that he loved the most, and who he thought loved him the most. Telling him to be stronger.

Harry bit his lower lip, an old habit he learned at the Dursleys when he wasn't allowed scream.

"Harry," Sirius put his finger under Harry's chin and made the raven look him in the eye. "you can do it, I believe in you. You're one of the strongest wizards that've ever been." Harry winced, he wasn't anything great, so why was Sirius lying to him? Sirius dropped his hand and stood up. "It's alright Harry. It'll be fine." He'd decided already, and didn't even consider what "discuss" really meant. He was used to bossing people around, so he didn't notice, and Harry was used to being bossed around so he didn't really care. "Dinner's in a few minutes." He left with one last smile, closing the door behind him with a satisfied snap.

Harry put his face in his hands and stared at the wall. He was so angry with Sirius, but the emotion was draining, and he didn't see any point in experiencing it for much longer—so he just pushed it into the back of his mind, and ignored the feeling. He went back to his book, trying to focus for a good ten minutes before he finally gave up and limped downstairs and into the kitchen. His face was seemingly frozen in a thoughtful frown, and like always, his eyes were trained on the floor. He went to sit down before he managed to collapse, but he was surprised to find that someone'd beat him to his usual chair.

"Gosh Harry, I like you as a friend only, and I'd rather you didn't try to sit in my lap." Harry looked up, not quite registering the familiar voice. The flaming red hair was not something he could miss though.

"Ron!" He smiled, his brow loosing its crease.

"Hey mate, been a long time." Ron stood and hugged Harry tightly. Harry ignored his habitual wince and tried to return the hug, but his arms were too weak. Ron pulled away and gave Harry a strange look, but he shrugged it off and sat back down.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked, after he sat down and caught his breath.

"In the kitchen with mum, poisoning us or something." Ron laughed at his own joke, and Harry tried to muster a chuckle, but he really was just too tired and worried. He was angry too, though he still hadn't really allowed himself to acknowledge that.

"Oh Ronald. It's sad really, haven't you already realized? I've been poisoning you for awhile now, through a complicated system of contacts I have within the house-elves at Hogwarts." Hermione swept into the room, carrying a stack of plates. She winked at Harry. "You wouldn't believe how easy it was to get help from Dobby, he recognized me as Harry's friend and—voila!" Hermione set down the dishes and snapped her fingers, a look of accomplished mischief on her face. Ron however, didn't seem nearly as happy as she did.

"I'd normally trust that she was joking, but I dunno if it's in my best interest to be so gullible." Ron replied with a nervous gulp. Hermione let a peal of laughter escape her lips and Harry relaxed considerably. Mrs. Weasley burst into the room with large quantities of food-laden trays and so many people looked like they were about to break out into applause at the sight of their dinner.

"Alright, eat up then!" Molly smiled proudly at them all as they filled their plates. Harry grabbed a spoonful of vegetables and a piece of garlic toast. Hermione and the adults noticed, but they chose not to say anything. Any of the young redheads though, were quite oblivious to any sign that something might be wrong with the tiny boy. Dinner passed with smiles and talk about simple things. Harry avoided giving Sirius any more attention than he had to, afraid that he'd loose any sense of composure if he talked with him for too long. Hermione shot him a weird look when he answered one of Sirius' questions sharply, and even refused to look at him as he passed him the peas. After a small dessert, the children were sent upstairs, and were verbally confined to their rooms, though they chose to visit for quite some time. Mainly it was Hermione, Ron, Harry and Ginny.

"So, how's your summer been?" Ron asked, concerned about his friend's well-being, but not really expecting anything noteworthy to have taken place.

"Hm, well y'know. Same old, same old." Harry muttered, looking away and faking interest in a hole in his comforter. Ron nodded, and Harry wasn't sure if he was believed or not.

"How were the muggles?" Hermione pestered, not willing to let the subject drop. Harry gave a long sigh and shrugged.

"Nothing new." He murmured. Now, even Ron looked up.

"What's wrong, Harry?" He asked, sounding frightened and uncertain. Harry glared with all he had at the bed. He was so frustrated! He felt cornered by his situation, and didn't quite know how to verbalize it to his friends. He felt angry tears collect in his eyes, and he forced them back down.

"I-I have to...to t-testify." He glowered at his hands, and avoided looking at them all. His face was an unruly color of crimson. It was pretty silent for a moment, no one knowing quite what to say. But it was broken by Ginny standing and sitting quietly next to Harry, on the bed. She didn't say anything, and as far as Harry could tell, she didn't stare at him like the others were. She just sat and was there.

"Testify?" Ron suddenly broke out in shock. "Testify for what?" Harry was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke he was still quiet, but his voice was filled with discomfort and rage.

"I have to testify against the Dursleys."

The silence was deafening, and Harry wanted any kind of escape. Ginny leaned into him, and wrapped her arm around him. He was confused, but with so much else going on, he really didn't care anymore.

"Why the Dur—" there was a quiet slap, and he was sure that it was Hermione's hand that was trying to keep Ron quiet.

"I'm surprised." Ginny whispered. Harry pulled away just enough to see into her eyes. She smiled a little at his confused expression. "You don't seem like someone who'd be willing to testify, even against people as wretched as those muggles." Harry grinned briefly and Ginny put her head back on his shoulder.

"Sirius says I should." He murmured, not really thinking. Ginny squeezed him to her.

"Harry, you know he isn't used to really discussing things with people. He might've run away from home, but he lived with purebloods for sixteen years. He was surrounded by servants most of his life, and even at Hogwarts the adults say he was insufferably arrogant." Harry was angry again, but his lack of energy took out the sting of it. He knew all of that, but he was still raw at being on the receiving end of Sirius' idiocy.

"Yeah, I know." He muttered.

"You should do what you think you should do, not what Sirius thinks you ought to do." She whispered to him. Harry gave a deep sigh. Thoughts and facts and opinions ran through his mind too fast for him to even be able to voice.

"I-I don't w-want t-to!" He nearly cried. "H-How can I p-possibly d-do this? M-My s-secrets will b-be everywhere!" He clenched and unclenched his fist. Ron was still bewildered though.

"Well, you'll want for everyone to know how awful they get, won't you?" Harry tried not to think to much about it, or he was sure he'd be sick.

"No," he murmured into his chest. "I just want to move on. I don't want the pity of the wizarding world. I mean, the public will either think I tricked the court with powerful magic, pity me, or think I deserved it." He almost snickered into his fist at his last possibility. It sounded like a lot of his uncle's words and his own musings from the darkness of his cupboard. "I just really don't want anyone to see what's in my head." Ginny hugged him and he didn't even tense. It was a surprise, but he hoped it just meant he was closer to recovery. They sat like that for awhile, in silence, though Harry could almost feel the warmth of Hermione and Ron's burning curiosity. By eleven, Molly came up and demanded them to keep to their own rooms and sleep. She handed Harry his third healing potion for that day, and Ron noticed, but thought better than asking while his mother was in the room. Harry gulped it down, and smiled at the redheaded woman gratefully. The light extinguished with a flick of her wand, and in the dark room Ron began,

"Harry that potion, wha—?"

"Healing potion. You'll find out at the trial." Ron thankfully let it drop, but the thought of the trial to come tied Harry's stomach in knots and he couldn't sleep. Which was a blessing in itself, nightmares were sure to flit through his unguarded mind if he slept, and that would only create more stress.

**A/N: Sorry this one's kinda short…but I wanted the trial to have its own chapter and this seemed like an good place to stop. **

**I didn't really like this chapter, Ginny was too close to him, and he was too willing to let her be, but I blame his fragile state of mind, since he's letting the helpless boy he is at his relative's house meet the boy-who-lived that his friends know meet. He'll get a little more uncomfortable after she's seen everything at the trial—which I'm just sadistic enough to enjoy writing. **

**In the next chapter, you can expect Fudge-bashing, and you can expect to like it (haha, I hate Fudge) **

**Oh, I just saw the 6****th**** movie *dances* it didn't suck, but the cornfield scene was 1)not in the book, 2) pointless, and 3) an incident that had nothing else to do with anything. I assume they used it to try and exhibit Harry's stupidity, Ginny's irrationality when it comes to Harry, and how insecure they are, even in the Burrow. But whatever…** **Alright, I'm going to go write the next chapter**

.net/s/4322552/1/My_Brain_Slug

3


	6. They Know, They See, These Memories

DAY OF THE TRIAL

Harry was awoken by Sirius, who watched him carefully the entire morning, everyone was. Harry couldn't stumble without three or four hands reaching out to steady him. He almost screamed the last time he stubbed his toe.

"I. Am. Fine." He growled at Hermione and Lupin, who'd jumped up to help. "You are all freaking me out, with the looks, and the watching, and the overreacting every time I trip!" He rolled his eyes. "You don't need to keep acting like I'm about to shatter into a million pieces, I've lived with the Dursleys for like, thirteen years. Trust me when I say that I can handle it." He really was too nervous for his own good, but he did feel a lot better being able to focus on his annoyance at his friends instead of what was coming up. Ginny giggled, trying to ignore the look in his eyes when he mentioned the Durselys. She wanted to know what he'd been through so that she could be there for him, but for her own mental stability she didn't think she'd be able to watch. Her brothers had told her about the bars on his window, and the cat flap they'd put on his door. They saw how skinny he always was, and how small he was. It wasn't just genetics that could make him so tiny. The way he flinched and how careful the adults were around him—deep down, she didn't want to really find out why.

"Alright everyone," the entire dining room quieted, and turned to the ex-professor. "time to leave, we need to get there a bit early." They all nodded, and swallowed their last mouthfuls of breakfast before they gathered around the portkey. Sirius was going as well, much to the rage and distress of everyone else, including Harry. The poor boy was relieved to find himself accompanied by his godfather, but terrified because the convict was walking straight into the government's central building.

There was a whirl of color and sensations, as the group was torn through space to the front of Ministry of Magic. Harry bit his lower lip, and they walked through, running their wands through security and ignoring the curious looks (drawn by Snuffles) or blatant staring. (because of _the _Harry Potter, boy-who-lived extraordinaire) They followed Mr. Weasley to the courtroom where Kingsley and Tonks were already, having come for work, several hours previous. Two aurors that Harry'd never met lead him to the prosecutors chair which, to his dislike, sat in front of a desk with a pensieve on top of it. It was one similar to the one in Dumbledore's office, the only differences being that the swirling substance within it was purer in color, and three tubes ran out of it. Two of these went towards the chair and one that was connected to some contraption in the center of the room. The courtroom was nearly full, save for a few empty seats. One of which was already present was Cornelius Fudge. Harry sat in the chair nervously, and waited patiently as, for the next twenty minutes, the courtroom filled to its brim with people. Harry grew more and more nervous. Cornelius entered, and everyone turned to him, and he carefully avoided making any kind of eye contact.

Everyone sat in silence, and Harry realized that he was just waiting for the defendants to arrive. He swallowed thickly. He really didn't want to see the Durselys ever again. A door on the far left of the room swung open then closed, and Harry looked away, to the feet of the people farthest from the door.

"Ah, now that the defendants have arrived, we can finally proceed." Fudge sounded bored, which already began to annoy some of the people there. The minister turned to the Dursleys.

"Before we begin, I'd like to hear how our defendants plead."

"Not guilty." Vernon snarled, angry at being forced to answer to a freak like Fudge. Harry glanced at him accidentally, and saw how pale and thin he and Aunt Petunia had become. To Harry, it seemed that his relatives had spent their time preparing for the trial in Azkaban. Vernon began again. "We are not guilty, because that—that little bastard" he pointed accusingly at Harry. "deserved everything he got!" A particularly intimidating auror stepped towards him, wand raised, and Veron quieted, returning to his seat. Fudge turned his attention to Harry.

"Harry Potter, you may now transfer your memories to the pensieve. Another auror stepped forward and took the end of the last tube and stepped towards Harry.

"I'm going to take ths and attach it to the back of your neck. That way, all you have to do is remember any memory and it will go straight to the pensieve." Harry nodded nervously, not trusting his voice to speak, and turned his back to the man, so that he could hook him up to the pensieve.

They were cool in temperature, but besides that, Harry hardly noticed it was there.

"Harry Potter, you are to present to the court any and every memories you might have to how the Durselys may or may not have abused you in any way." The minister's voice hadn't lost its monotone which just made Harry's cheeks turn a horrible shade of red. But he pushed his embarrassment aside, and began with one of his earliest memories. As soon as the image formed in his mind, the tiny machine in the middle of the floor lit up, reminding Harry of a scifi hologram. He really didn't like how realistic it was. It really looked like there were two Harrys and two Petunias were in the room

'A two-year-old Harry is sitting on the kitchen floor, watching his aunt and cousin interact.

"Say 'mommy'!" Aunt Petunia was coaxing. "C'mon baby, just say "mommy"!" This went on for a good ten or fifteen minutes, where the woman was only rewarded with gurgling from the fat baby before her. The young Harry seemed to get exasperated with his cousin's lack of progress, so he shakily stood and wobbled over to the two.

"Mommy." He said proudly. Petunia turned slowly to face him.

"What?" She snapped. "Say that again."

"Mommy!" Harry smiled, proud that he'd gotten attention from Petunia. But the woman jumped up quickly and slapped the baby Harry.'—here the first gasp went through the courtroom, and Harry almost laughed, _this _was getting them worked up? _This?_—'"I am not your mother, I could never have a disgusting thing like you," she slapped him again. "and never, _never_ out do Dudley in anything." Harry had fallen on his diapered backside, and let big clear tears fall down his cheeks as he crawled back to the wall where he'd been sitting and observing before.'

Harry tilted his head and gazed at the fading image of his childhood, and jumped forward a few years, these people didn't really have to know everything, just samplings would be fine.

'A four-year-old Harry was covered in dirt, and he was drinking a tall cup of water. He tried to set it down on top of the counter that was at least three inches out of his reach. It fell the kitchen linoleum below, where the water splashed everywhere. A woman's shriek came from the other room. Harry looked up, quite startled, and saw his aunt watching him from the doorway, horror written on her face. But that fear quickly turned to anger, as she rushed to Harry and took his tiny arm firmly, and held him there as she took an old spoon out of a drawer and held it over a burner on the stove. After a few moments, she took the spoon and held it to Harry's arm, holding him still so that he couldn't squirm away. He cried out, again and again, tears running down his face. After half a minute, Petunia released him, and used her now-free hand to slap the boy.

"Quiet!" She snarled. "You're not allowed to snivel, or cry, or whine. You deserve what you get." Harry forced his tears to dry and stifled his sobs.

"Don't you?!" Petunia demanded harshly. Harry looked away from his Aunt, trying to hide his tears and replied.

"I deserve what I get." Petunia nodded, satisfied, then went on as if nothing had happened, and Harry got a rag, to mop up the mess.' By now the real Harry was getting nervous, it really wasn't too bad up until then, he was still young so his Aunt and Uncle only saw it fit to hit him when they wanted to accent a rule they'd had Harry learn. They were things that Harry had etched so deep, and they were things that affected everything he did, whether he noticed or not.

'"Only good boys get families."' The little Harry piped up from the contraption.

'"My parents died in a car crash, my mum and dad were drunk when they hit a telephone pole, that's how I got this scar."' Harry, a little over five years old, recited to his aunt and uncle. Our real Harry was switching through memories almost too fast, and they began to blend together, but they were still all pretty much the same. Harry Potter, of various ages, stood in front of a courtroom and recited the rules he'd been forced to memorize from a very young age.

'"Magic doesn't exist."'

'"I'm bad."'

'"Nobody could ever care about me, I'm not worthy of love."'

'"I'm a freak."'

'"I'm a burden."'

'"I deserve this."'

Fourteen-year-old Harry looked around at everyone's faces. Most were horrified and disgusted, he expected that. Some looked bored, or were shooting him these incredulous glances. He expected that too.

His eyes settled on his friends. Hermione was crying into Ron's shoulder. The boy had his jaw set roughly, and his eyes were glassy with unshed tears. Ginny was hugging her knees, her face green, mesmerized by Harry's memories.

'"You know, if YOU just weren't such a FREAK, I wouldn't HAVE to do this!" Most of the crowd flinched away from Harry's memory of Uncle Vernon. They heard snap of leather, and saw the belt coming down on Harry's back.' The boy was young; no one was quite sure how young though. Not that it mattered. The belt came down on his flesh repeatedly before the memory cut off.

The memories, all of the colors swirled around each other, not quite settling into any shape as Harry remembered his life at the Dursleys.

'He was at school, he couldn't have been any more than eight or nine years old. Four large children, one a replica of his father Vernon, were chasing him, malice in their eyes and misplaced violence in every step they took. Harry ran, squinting through old glasses that were the wrong prescription and even through the enormous clothing, it was obvious that he hadn't eaten nearly enough in life. Harry ran towards the garbage bins behind the school's kitchens…then he looked around. Quite confused as to how he'd managed to get onto the roof.—the memory skipped to that same night—'"We'll beat out all of that FREAKISHNESS! All of that freaky defiance in you! You worthless piece of shit, marring the beautiful face of my NORMAL family! After all we've done for you!" The meaty fist came down, and without realizing it, the entire audience scooted away, as though expecting to get hit themselves. "How'd you do it, hmm?!" Vernon smacked him again a Harry fell backwards, tripping over his own feet.

"I-I don't k-know! I d-didn't d-do anything!" He shouted, holding his arms over his head in protection. Uncle Vernon roared incoherently, and took the boy by his hair and threw him into the cupboard under the stairs.

"Don't go expecting food for four days." He hissed, eyes still wide in an inexplicable fury.' Harry, forgetting to focus on what the Dursleys did to him, abruptly switched to the night Hagird found them in the hut on the rock.

'"B-But I c-can't b-be a w-wizard! I'm just Harry." An eleven year old told the half-giant.

"Did ya eva do sometin'? Sometin' ya coodn't explain? Sometin' when ya was mad, or scared?"'

The memories went dark for a minute, and Harry sagged in his chair, staring blankly at the floor under his feet. Everyone waited for it to start again, but nothing happened.

"Well mister Potter, if that's all you have to show us--?" Fudge asked, not even bothering to look at the boy. People looked at him with unrestrained outrage; he was brushing off everything he'd just seen as though it were nothing! The kind Auror from before stepped up to Harry and knelt down in front of him, trying to look the teen in the eye.

"Harry?" He asked quietly. "Do you have anything else to show us?" Harry mumbled something. The man stood up.

"Perhaps if we could take a short recess? Give the boy some time to recuperate, this is really—taking its toll." Fudge looked ready to decline the request, but Madam Bones beat him to the decision.

"Of course, we can see the result of this trial quite clearly, and it'd only be fair of us to make this as easy for Mr. Potter as we can." The auror nodded gratefully to the woman, then detached the tube from Harry's neck, picked him up from the chair, and lead him with a steady hand on his shoulder into a private room, where he stood guard. No one was allowed to see him, intimidators, friends, well-wishers. Not even a random Grim-like dog that someone had managed to smuggle into the courtroom—

The auror stood stoically in front of the door, paying attention only to the people trying to get their way inside, and the heart-wrenching silence from within.

Hermione couldn't get a grip on her rationality; she just couldn't get those great big, green eyes looking up at her, explaining how worthless he was.

"It's not fair!" She moaned, her distress greatly muffled by the front of Ron's robes. Ron held her, and held her quietly, not really saying anything to her. Most would think that it was because he didn't have to comfort her with words since his arms were around her, but one look at his horror-stricken face showed that he just couldn't unstick his frozen brain. Remus went to a wall, and sank to the floor, his fingers practically pulling out a chunk of Snuffles' fur.

"How did we miss it? How could someone be so horrible, convince Harry that-that he wasn't worth the only thing that could ever matter? That he wasn't worthy of love?" He choked on a sob, he was losing control over his emotions, but the tears still wouldn't fall. He had to be strong, for Sirius, for Harry, for the Weasleys. For Tonks. Snuffles sat there with Remus, his snout pointing at the door that stood between him and Harry. He kept whining, and wrapped his tail around his hips, eyes never leaving the auror that guarded his godson.

Fred and George sat side-by-side in front of their parents. They were trying to block out their mom's gasping sobs, and their dad's murmured comfort.

"How the hell could this happen to our brother?" Fred said, trying to muster all of his anger into a growl, but only managing to sound lost and confused.

"How could anybody be so cruel? Especially to a child, especially if that child is Harry?" George whispered.

"Why didn't we know? Why didn't he tell us?"

"The prosecutor, Mr. Harry James Potter is once again, ready to testify. If we might resume?" Cornelius called out into the hushed room. His tone spoke of insolence and a complete disregard for Harry's pain and the overall sympathy that the others felt for Harry's pain.

Our dear Mr. Auror lead Harry back to the chair, and his closest friends winced at the haunted and withdrawn look on his face. He sat down without making a sound, and allowed the auror to re-attach his neck to the pensieve. The memories started almost instantaneously.

'Harry, no younger than six or seven, though he was so small it was difficult to tell, was serving his relatives their breakfasts. Dudley was watching Harry curiously and it was making Harry nervous. Nothing good ever came out of being noticed by a Dursely.

"Hey, mommy? If I was a freak like Harry, would you treat me like you do him? Would you beat the freakiness out of me too?" Petunia and Vernon looked a little ill at hearing the innocent question.

"Of course not my Duddy-kins! We couldn't do something like that to you, we love you!" Little Harry gripped his cousin's plate tightly enough that his knuckles turned white and he bit the inside of his cheek so ferociously that he had to swallow blood.

After he finished cleaning his relatives' dishes, he went to his cupboard and let himself cry over what he didn't have, a family's love.

'Harry, perhaps eight years old, sat crouched in the dark recesses of his cupboard. His lip was bleeding because he was biting it so hard. A roar came from upstairs, and the stairs above his head shook and knocked dust and spiders onto his head. The lock on the cupboard door slid out and the door swung open, Uncle Vernon leaning in, his bull-like face purple, and he was breathing so hard that it knocked Harry's bangs around on his forehead. The pudgy hand reached in to grab Harry by the hair, and yank him forcefully from his tiny sanctuary. He threw the child to the ground, and raised Dudley's smelting stick and brought it down on the child's back. Harry never let his bite on his lip loosen, pain written all over his face and his nails digging into the carpet. He refused to cry out, being taught so long ago that doing so would only get him hit. His eyes might have been dry, but his back cried crimson tears. His body was wracked with anguish, and he was tense as though trying to absorb the force. After a few minutes, he rocked back and forth on his hands and knees, trying to focus on something, anything, that would keep him from blacking out.

It didn't work.'

—Everything went black for a minute, but then another memory slid into place.—

'A nine-year-old Harry was weeding the garden, swaying slightly the entire while. He'd every once-in-a-while jump and look towards the house, as though he expected someone to burst through the back door and beat him. The people watching his memories now knew it to be a viable concern. Harry was glistening with an unhealthy amount of sweat and he was nearly gray, with green accenting his temples and his cheekbones. Finally, he wobbled over to the garden hose, and reached out to turn it on, but realized, with a sense of dread, that it had been locked with a padlock. He stumbled to the end of the hose, a green rubber snake sitting patiently in the grasses. He the nozzle to his chapped, pale lips, and threw his head back, trying to get the last drops. Nothing came out. He whimpered, and his knees, shoulders, elbows and fingers started twitching violently. He fell to the ground, staring blank-eyed in a daze. (You might see this as a bit over-the-top, but I'm basing it on my reactions when I stand up to suddenly, I loose my sight, and control over my hands, and twitch pretty violently so…)

He was obviously ill, but that along with dehydration, malnutrition, the heat, and the sudden movement made the twitching almost violent. He worked to regain some control over his own body. He reached blindly again for the hose and this time, he pleaded.

"Please, I just want water, please—" he grew faint. They heard a slight rushing sound and water poured out, right onto his face, running over his glasses and into his begging mouth. He took huge gulps, barely bothering to breathe anymore. His eyes were closed, and he was pathetically absorbed in being able to drink so much cool, cool water. But then the back door burst open.

Harry didn't notice of course. He didn't notice anything until Vernon was already on top of him, the big man put his meaty arms around the black-haired child and dragged him towards the house, but Harry resisted, trying so hard to keep his weak grip on the small relief that the hose offered. But he was so tiny and so feeble, what he wanted, or even needed, had absolutely nothing to do with reality anymore. The big man carried the boy, ignoring his nephew's frail attempts, into the house. He threw the boy bodily into the wall and growled lowly at him not to move, which was an order Harry was too terrified to ignore. His uncle did something reminiscent of a punishment from Aunt Petunia, seven years ago. He took a knife, and held it over a burner on the stove.

Harry began to hyperventilate. Oh god, oh god, this was—this was really going to hurt. Harry blinked away tears and watched his approach in terror.

"Take off your shirt, boy." Vernon leaned in, and Harry could smell the alcohol on his breath despite it being in the middle of the day. With horribly shaking hands, Harry pulled his shirt off, and at his uncle's command, he turned his exposed back to the furious, drunken man.—'

— "N-No! D-Don't!! Ju-Just r-run! H-Harry!" The memory slowed and grew fuzzy, and everyone turned to see who'd shouted. Hermione turned red, and Ron leaned forward to hide her face from everyone else, and whispered something, rubbing Hermione's arm soothingly.

"Ms. Granger, if you cannot keep yourself in check, I suggest you leave." Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic (if only in name) commanded her snootily, his particularly pointy nose much too high in the air. Hermione nodded quickly, not trusting her voice enough to attempt speaking. She leaned into Ron, and turned back to Harry, a look of determination on her flush face. Harry bit back a grin. His friends were there. For him. They cared.

He had friends!—

'—Vernon held his knife high above his head, but what they didn't expect was for him to bring it down slowly, with finesse and a twisted grace.

He dug the blade in just a little. An

**F **now bled from the child's back.

**R** raged across his tender flesh.

**E**

**A**

**K. **The boy still refused to cry. It didn't work. Tears streamed down his face, one after the other, each straining against a self-control that the boy shouldn't have. Each drop would almost leap from his eye, and take its time travelling down his cheek, and there'd be a long pause before the next could break free. Vernon picked him up from the ground by his hair, and tossed him carelessly into the wall.

"Clean this up." Vernon pointed to the blood smeared on the wall and carpet. He spoke calmly, like he was a father telling his son to clean up his dishes after supper. Harry took his shirt, and slipped it on over his wounds, and went to gather a rag and something to mop up his blood with.

A few years passed and a boy, Harry Potter (who would've thought) who must have been ready to receive his Hogwarts letter, sat in his cupboard, nursing his arm and glancing to the slots in his cupboard door every few seconds.

"Almost time—Uncle will be home soon. I hope he gets here early—I hope he comes straight home." The boy shuddered. "My punishments are always much worse when he takes the time to drink before he comes home." He kept muttering to himself, rocking slowly on the folded up blanket beneath him that served as his bed. "No. Can't—something—oh no!" he whispered, hugging his knees close to himself, his eyes squeezed shut. He kept muttering, and whispering to himself in the dark. They could only discern what some o it actually was. Then: "Something's wrong, I can feel it, my—my core! I know, not—not good is coming. It's gonna hurt—oh no. Oh no." He sat like that for hours, absolutely terrified, until he fell asleep, still sitting perfectly straight, but now snoring slightly instead of whispering.

The front door slammed open. Harry startled, looking around drowsily, but it was obvious that he hadn't slept in days, so he almost fell back to sleep instantly. Whimpers were heard throughout the courtroom, they knew this would not end well for Harry. The cupboard door was thrown open and Harry shrieked, his head flying back and hitting the wall.

Vernon dragged him out, and Harry would go back and forth between screaming and kicking, and being perfectly silent as Vernon pulled him out to the dark backyard. He took his nephew's tiny throat in his big hands and squeezed, laughing at the abrupt darkening in Harry's complexion, and his desperate coughing. He tossed Harry to the ground and swiftly kicked him the side. Harry curled around his soft midsection, and reached up to cover his head and neck. Vernon kept kicking enthusiastically, but he was slow in doing it, careful not to fall over in his drunken state. Harry started shaking, drawing blood from his lip again.

"You bastard! You are such a worthless piece of shit! Why do you always do this to me and my family?!" Vernon roared into the night. The audience sighed in relief when the pale face of a neighbor glanced quickly over the fence. But the woman just disappeared from view. There was the sound of a door opening and then closing. Music began to play from the house. No one else came out.

"You filthy turd! You freak! Always doing nasty little freak things too!" Vernon kicked him again. "What do have to say for yourself? Well?! Why did you get me fired?!!" Harry jerked away for him.

"I! I'm s-sorry U-Uncle! I-I d-didn't m-mean it!" He cried into the pavement of the Dursley's back patio. Vernon didn't seem to hear him though, paying quite too much to the demise of his nephew. Vernon reached down and grasped a stick from the ground beneath the tree in their backyard. He whipped Harry with it all around his back and arms and face until his own breathing became too labored. Then he let Harry crawl back to his cupboard. They pretty much left Harry alone after that, every once-in-awhile Aunt Petunia would open the door and drop in a bowl of soup or a piece of fruit, but that was it. Harry sat there, muttering to himself, trying to keep the quiet darkness at bay. His cupboard quickly became too horrible to be around. It smelled like blood and puke and urine and misery. The boy held his knees and stared at the black inky depths and kept up the conversations with himself. Now his friends knew why Hedwig was so important. She helped him fight off the silence, she heard when he spoke, and her pure white feathers, glowing in the darkness, gave his eyes something to focus on. Those feathers proved to him that there was something there, and he wasn't just floating in some unknown dimension.'

—Here, Harry just decided to hurry on to his summer memories between Hogwarts.—

'An owl flew into the window, and Harry hurried from where he was cooking breakfast to let the bird in. There was an unrestrained grin on his too-thin face, and it was infectious. Everyone in the courtroom were letting out a sigh of relief from all of the darkness they'd been subjected to so far. But a meaty hand took the back of Harry's shirt and pulled him back, throwing him roughly onto the hard floor. He tore the letter from the post owl and pushed the creature back out the window before closing the glass. He took the letter, addressed to Harry, and hatefully ripped open the envelope.

"Hermione—some freakish friend of yours?" Vernon implored, leaning in towards Harry. Harry gulped and his emerald eyes avoided his Uncles beady ones.

"N-No s-sir. I-I h-hate h-her." In response, Uncle Vernon leaned away, and stood up fully again.

"Is that so? Hmm." He fanned himself with the letter. "Then I guess it wouldn't matter if you read it—especially if she chews you out for being the burden you are." Harry's eyes tightened at the mention of how he was so much trouble, but he still watched his uncle hopefully. Vernon strode to the living room, and Harry followed, knowing that he was expected to. His uncle walked to the fireplace.

Harry never did get that letter.'

—Harry heard Hermione gasp at his lie. He didn't hate her! Couldn't she see that he was only trying to get her letter back? She was so smart, couldn't she get it? He ignored it though, he'd apologize later. Right now all he had to do was show them what'd happened.'

'"Kill the spare!" A green light. Cedric was lying there, spread-eagled on the cold grass. His eyes were dead, but so accusing! Harry understood, he killed Cedric, he killed the poor and innocent boy. He started screaming, Harry just watched Cedric's body, screaming. "Please, Harry! Bring back my body, bring my body back to my father…" The voice was quite, but it pierced Harry and his incessant screams. Voldemort, in his brand new, shiny body strode forward. "I can touch you now!" He hissed, eyes dancing mercilessly. His drew his slimy hand from the sleeve of his robes, and held Harry's cheek, caressing the boy's flesh. His head split open and his desperate and horrified screams just grew louder. Some of the courtroom covered their ears in an attempt to dispel the terrified noise. Something boomed loudly, and Harry was shaken from his dream. Vernon took him into the hall and beat him. "Waking me up—ungodly hours—Freak!"'

The memories cut off with the rhythmic cursing and beating of Uncle Vernon's fist. The real Harry looked up at everyone who were watching him. He winced at their looks of pity and horror. He didn't want this. He wouldn't have come! He shouldn't have! He would have marched out right then and there, hadn't he been so sick and tired, and just in pain of remembered hurts. He slumped forward, and felt the auror's hand on his back, he flinched away, but the man kept at it, just holding his hand there, murmuring over and over, "It's okay, it's okay, it's over. It's okay…" When some of the tension left Harry's shoulders, the auror tugged the tube from Harry's neck, and the boy didn't react. The rest of the trial went on around Harry as a blur while he just sat there. Finally, it was over, but Harry didn't quite notice. Snuffles went up to the boy and nuzzled his hand. Harry started, looking around worriedly, but when he returned to the present, he scratched his godfather behind the ears and smiled tightly, weakly. His friends formed a ring around him, blocking the flashes of light from cameras and the questions that didn't cease to pour from the mouths of reporters.

They left quickly and when they got home, Molly made snacks and sat them all down around the living room. They all kept up some small talk going, trying to distance themselves from everything that'd happened. Harry sat in a corner, Sirius on one side and Remus on the other. He was hiding in his knees, and was tense despite the comforting arms of his father's best-friends. Every once-in-awhile, he'd look up and catch someone's eyes, then look away, too frightened of what he'd find in his friend's faces. He heard Hermione choke back a sob and he looked up quite terrified.

"N-No! It's not t-that—I-I was just l-lying, w-wasn't i-it obvious? I-I thought it was obvious!" Everyone turned to look at him, even Hermione with her puffy red eyes and salty face.

"What are you talking about Harry?" Sirius asked, rubbing little circles on the boys back.

"M-My memories. W-When I s-said that I h-hated Hermione." He looked at her pleadingly. "I j-just said that s-so that he m-might l-let me r-read it!" He couldn't stop stuttering, it just ate at him mercilessly, that she might believe the horrific lie.

Everything was quite for a minute, no one dared to breathe until Hermione reacted. Well, she hiccupped, then burst out laughing.

"Harry! Oh, Harry," she wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "oh dear, I really shouldn't be laughing but—how could I believe something like that? I know you're a good person, and it was obvious why you said that—I'm not upset about that! Of course not!" Harry seemed to relax a little, but he still had his knees to his chest, and after he smiled at his friend, he went back to hiding from their eyes.

"Oh gods, this is driving me crazy." A nameless redhead burst suddenly.

"My thoughts exactly, Gred."

"Oh? And what do you suggest we do, Forge?" The boys snickered, and everyone looked at them in horror. Harry laughed hollowly though, so everyone relaxed. The room erupted in laughter, tears streaming down their faces and most of the immediate discomfort was dispelled. Harry held his stomach, and they could tell it was a little too tightly, but they didn't say anything. They expected him to turn all of his fear and hate onto himself, that's just who he was, so they were prepared to stop him for the worse of his self-harm or recklessness.

The Weasley adults talked to all of the kids with Remus about it. They didn't want for their kids to be weary of Harry, worried that he'll hurt himself, but they were more worried that Harry would do just that. Take advantage of his friends to keep any new cuts on his arms secret or maybe ask them not to tell anyone how he didn't slow down when he flew straight at Hogwarts' stone walls. The adults didn't like to think about it, and the kids didn't like to hear it, but it had to be made known. Harry wasn't one to take it out on other people unless he felt cornered, but in his mind everything that happened seemed to be his fault.

After watching the Dursleys, no one doubted why he was like that.

"Cub," Lupin looked at him seriously. Too seriously for Harry's liking. "We're going to have to talk." Harry whimpered, which everyone pretended not to hear. He held his torso tightly and leaned heavily into his knees, making himself small, and trying to blank out the thoughts in his head. This wasn't going to be good, he had no reason to expect it to be. They were going to ask him questions that he either didn't want to voice the truth, or just wouldn't know what the answer was. But there wasn't any way for him to avoid it, was there, but when was there ever a way for him to avoid bad things?

**AN: Gods, (damn straight, I'm polytheist! Well, sort of…) it's finally over! Over eight pages, and here I only wanted it to be like four pages… but I couldn't write everything I wanted for the trial in so few pages, and when it was over, I really didn't know how to end it -_ -' But I guess I found a good spot… I was asked what pairings I was doing… kinda obvious now, but I'll reiterate:**

**-RonXHermione**

**-HarryXGinny (maybe? I love slash… but I dunno who he'd be with)**

**-Fred and George, PLATONIC OF COURSE!!!! But like, I don't like to believe that everyone needs a sexual partner to be happy, and I like that they might just be happy with the other's company. At least for now, they aren't like every other teen, crying about drama and trying to get any boy/girl friend they can, regardless of feelings (rant over)**

**-RemusXTonks (damn 7****th**** book… damn you!)**

**-etc.**

**Thanks for the story alerts and reviews ******** I'm happy, and all squeally "They love me, they really love me!" I don't get that reference, but I'll make it anyways. In the next chapter it'll be some talking, and nosing in on Harry's inner thinking… unless I change my mind… Please enjoy, or don't, drop me a line to let me know which one! **

.net/s/4322552/1/My_Brain_Slug

7


	7. Night Terrors Rot The Night

"Harry?" The dark-haired boy startled, looking up worriedly. Sirius watched him, disgusted and angry at everything and everyone for what had happened to his godson.

"Y-Yes?" He looked up at his ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"We need to talk about what happened." He murmured, he could see Sirius' face almost turning red with his rage, and he understood the feeling, but he knew that he had to help Harry and loosing his temper would be hurtful instead.

"W-Why? Y-You all know what h-happened, w-why do w-we have to talk about i-it?" Harry refused to meet anyone's stare, and blood kept building up behind his face. He hated attention, living with his family, and then with his famousness as being The Harry Potter, he had learned that that there was no such thing as "good attention" and "bad attention" interest from another person was always something to avoid.

"Harry, just because we've seen parts of it, just because we've glimpsed into pieces of your past, doesn't mean that you've moved past something like that. Healing doesn't happen just because people find out about something bad, you have to come to terms with it, you have to talk about it." Harry stood up suddenly. He glared at them.

"Come to terms with this? _Talk _about this?" His hands curled into weak fists. "How will that do anything? Hm?! What do you want me to say?! My Uncle Vernon locked me up in the dark, he convinced me of horrible things that I can't forget? No matter how hard I try? That I-I'm scared to s-sleep?! O-Or how w-when M-Mrs. W-Weasley h-hugs m-me, I get f-flashbacks?!" He gestured to the horrified redheaded woman sitting on the couch, but he didn't bother looking at her. It wasn't about her, it was about how he was affected by his beatings. He let out a muffled sob, but to their horror, he didn't actually cry. Ron watched him, and they could see the conflict on his face. He had no idea hat to do to—he couldn't let Harry just suffer like he was, but he'd never been good at cheering Harry up. Harry fell to his knees and flattened his ears to his skull with his tiny palms.

"I-I didn't m-mean t-to s-say that." He murmured into the ground. Lupin knelt down beside him and held his shoulders. But then Harry jumped away, watching him with wide eyes. He glanced at the door and inched away, tearing his gaze from the exit, but not for long. "Sorry—I-I um, I just—" he stopped talking, but still watched them fearfully. They didn't know what was going through his mind. Was he scared that he was going to be hit, or was he just worried about how'd they react to his breaking down?

"It's okay, Harry. Shh, it's okay." Lupin sat down next to him, careful not to actually touch him. Harry went back to hugging his knees, but he wasn't making a sound. "C'mon, you must be tired, let's get you to bed." Lupin wasn't sure what to do, if he couldn't help Harry from the floor, how was he supposed to get him up the stairs and into bed? But he didn't have to worry. Harry stood, and followed him to the room, his eyes and expression blank, his footsteps almost silent. He crawled into bed, and held himself, watching Lupin silently until the man was in the hall and the door was closed. But then all he did was stand and walk to the window, thinking.

Did they really expect him to sleep? After everything that'd happened, there was too much adrenaline that'd been released into his bloodstream and besides, he was so used to being afraid that to relax enough to sleep was out of the question. He'd always been bad at sleeping, and better at hiding it, but he didn't think that his strange habits would go unnoticed anymore. Harry leaned his aching head against the cool glass and glared through the murky glass. Everything he did was going to be seen as either "it's because he's abused" or "he's healing from his abuse" Harry rolled his eyes at the thought. Pity made people weird and he was in store for a lot of abnormality. He walked back to the bed and climbed atop the blankets on the bed. Watching the dark ceiling, he listened to all of the noises that disturbed the quiet, and he smiled with his eyes fluttering closed. These were the sounds of his safety, weren't they? He might not like that they knew, but it was so much better than living with the Dursleys. Hearing the Weasleys, Hermione, Sirius, Lupin, and Tonks, everyone— murmuring downstairs as though they didn't want for him to wake, along with Hedwig's rhythmic nighttime hoots as she slept—it was what he wanted, wasn't it? This was as close to a family he was going to get, the very people who accepted him for who he was wanted him around.

The words made sense, but what they meant was a little too alien, and he let it drop so that he might sleep sometime that night.

DOWNSTAIRS

"Those bastards!" Sirius roared, knocking a vase from a small table. It shattered on the ground, and people only noticed enough to shush him. Lupin ran his hands through his hair and fell into a vacant seat with an explosive sigh. Molly was crying, and Ron was a little ashen.

"How can something like this happen?" Hermione squeaked. Mr. Weasley pat her on the back.

"I know this can be very, upsetting—and confusing. We've had a friend go through some real horrors in his life; Harry's gone through things that no child should ever have to go through. But we have to be strong for him. If those memories were any indication, he's been strong for a long time and now we have to teach him that he doesn't have to be like that anymore. Fred and George scooted closer and leaned on each other, trying to keep from falling asleep, but still managing to capture every word spoken.

"Oh—I just don't know how to help him! I-I've been giving him flashbacks! Just by holding him! I always felt him get tense when I hugged him, but I just figured it was because those relatives of his never hugged him, so he wasn't used to it." She buried her face in her hands, and tried to quiet her sobs.

"Molly, you were just trying to show him a mother's love, and you did! He told me once, when I was teaching him the Patronous charm, that sometimes your and your family's affection frightened him and he was scared that you wouldn't like him for long." He growled suddenly, his voice becoming harsh and his kind hands now fists. "I was suspicious then, that something was really wrong at his home. I figured it was only emotional, and that he'd be fine because he was at Hogwarts so much, with so many friends—but I was sorely mistaken, and made the grave mistake of not acting." Sirius stood up suddenly, not looking them in the eyes.

"It wasn't just you. Remus. None of you saw it! Remus, he was James' son! Molly, Arthur, you know how children should be, and yet you noticed nothing, of all the summers he spent at your house—you even met those monsters!" He roared, and about three silencing spells hit the room at once. They didn't want to wake Harry up to yelling.

"Sirius maybe you should cal—"

"What, Remus, I beg you, what should I do? Hmm? Calm down, right? You want me to CALM DOWN?! After I've seen what was done to my GODSON?! JAMES' SON?! After you all were CALM and did NOTHING while he BLED and BELIEVED THAT NO ONE CARED?!!" Sirius rocked back on his heels and threw his head back as though he were about to laugh. "BUT HOW COULD HE'VE BEEN PROVEN ANY DIFFERENT WHEN NO ONE DID ANYTHING!?! WHY WOULD HE THINK ANYONE CARED IF NO ONE DID!?"

"Sirius!" Mr. Weasley stood up, to face him. He understood why the man felt that way, after all, they were all yelling at themselves just as harshly for not seeing it, but the look on his wife's face, the twins' faces, and he felt it on his own—he couldn't allow Sirius to hurt his family like that. "You've crossed the line—you know we all love Harry, and have laid their lives on the line to help Harry, and Molly has accepted Harry into our home, as her own son!" Sirius watched him, actually listening, and they saw his eyes dart over the faces of everyone involved. He wilted a little. He glared at his feet, his unfair anger gone. He marched to the door, not once looking up, and slammed it behind him, leaving for some alone time in his thoughts, hiding in his room.

"He's just—angry with himself." Everyone turned to Tonks. She shrugged at them, uncomfortable with the number of tears in the room. "He's angry that he wasn't there for Harry, especially when it really mattered, and since you aren't sending him back to Azkaban for child neglect, he's trying to provoke you by using the most horrible thing he can think of." Remus chuckled.

"That definitely sounds like Sirius. I just wish he hadn't—" the werewolf gestured to the twins and Molly.

"Well, at least now we know why he said those things." Hermione said, nodding slowly, not really looking at anyone, and Arthur knew why.

"Hermione. You couldn't have done anything, you didn't know!" He was firm, trying to dispel those thoughts from her head. She nodded, but the look on her face told him that she didn't believe a single thing he'd said. He growled in frustration and sat down heavily. He didn't know what to do with this—everything went from horrible to absolutely wretched. "I'm going to bed. I will see you all tomorrow."

There was a chorus of faint "goodnight"s, and he left for the peace that sleep promised.

3:36 AM

"Wha—?" Sirius sat up suddenly, and at first he thought that he was back in Azkaban, waking up to the prisoner's screams. With the dementors there so often, nightmares were all too common. But his bed too comfortable and the air too warm and then? He recognized the hoarse voice that ripped the air. "Harry," he murmured, his blood going cold and his heavy feet hit the wooden floors. He ran out of his bedroom and tore off for Harry's room. He met Tonks on the way, and they burst into his room.

"Harry!" He shouted, taking the distressed teen's thrashing arms in his hands. "Harry, stop! Wake up!" Harry's kicking got worse, and he strained against Sirius, still screaming. Tonks ran forward and grabbed his legs, throwing her entire weight on him, trying to hold down his feet.

"Harry, wake up! It's just a nightmare, that's all!" His screams suddenly cut off, and the two adults let out a sigh of relief. But then the tiny boy pulled away from them, whimpering. He tried to get away from them yanking his arms and legs from their tight grasps.

"U-Uncle—please, I'm s-sorry, I swear! I d-didn't m-mean to! I d-didn't m-mean to w-wake y-you! I-I'm s-sorry! P-Please." Sirius gasped harshly, and tried to calm him, by brushing away his sweaty bangs, but Harry flinched away from the touch, whimpering and crying.

"Oh Lord." Molly's voice came from the doorway. They looked up to see the Weasley parents standing in the faint moonlight, holding each other. Molly pulled away from Arthur and sat down by Harry's head, and tried to ignore his struggling and spoke over his cries.

"Harry dear—breakfast! Get Ron up, that great lump!" She laughed with a well-hidden quiver in her voice, and they saw Harry's eyes pop open in surprise.

"M-Mrs. Weasley. What are you doing here?" He asked, sounding thoroughly confused.

"Oh, I live here dear." Harry sat up suddenly, throwing off Tonks and Sirius. When he heard them hit the ground, he jumped and looked at them in surprise.

"Siri? A-And Tonks—" the truth dawned on him, and he hid his face in his hand. "Ooh. Sorry, I had a bad dream—two actually." He laughed, and it was less hollow than they would've expected.

"Oh, we could tell Prongslet." Sirius said, too shaken up to have any tact. Harry looked down at the sheets shame-facedly.

"I'm sorry for waking you—I've actually gotten out of the habit of screaming in my sleep, I don't know why I did now." Molly very tentatively sat beside him, and pulled him in so that he would lean on her.

"Harry, sweetie, we don't mind. No one should wake up from a nightmare alone. Please don't try to muffle your screams." The boy laughed quietly, but did lean into her, so no one bothered him about it. Sirius stood up, and Harry tensed, his breath catching, but he got his panic under control, and after awhile, his heart beat slowed to a proper pace.

"Why don't you all go back to bed? I'll tuck Harry in, and be right out." Molly told them and her tone let them know that there _was_ nothing more for them to say. Arthur smiled at her so that she would know how brilliant she was. She smiled back, and he and Tonks left the room promptly. Sirius didn't, however.

"Molly, he's my g—"

"Sirius, now is not the time to be blind to what's beyond your own nose." She told him quietly, keeping the irritation from her voice. Sirius raised his hand, to wave his arm in his annoyance, but Harry jerked away, his eyes wide and completely focused Sirius' arm. Harry bit his lower lip, but Sirius and Molly could still hear the terrified noises caught in the boy's throat. Sirius dropped his arm and his anger, going limp with the shame that came from scaring Harry, especially right after a nightmare he had about his uncle.

"I love you Harry, and I'll see you tomorrow, goodnight." He turned and left before anyone had the time to react. He was so repulsed by that image of him, with a raised fist! Standing in front of Harry, who was whimpering and shrinking into himself, trying to hide from him. Him! Of all people! When the door shut, a little too angrily, making Harry flinch.

"Oh forget him; he's just upset about everything that's going on right now." Mrs. Weasley ran her hands up Harry's arms, trying to distract him from Sirius and his numerous hissy fits. Harry just "hmm"ed and didn't answer her. Molly sighed, watching Harry's tense form.

"Please tell me what happened in your dream." Harry's head spun around to fast and his eyes were wide, like he couldn't even fathom telling her about his nightmares.

"It really wasn't much, it wasn't any different than most nights—"

"Harry." She said firmly, warning him that he couldn't get out of telling her. He sighed, accepting his fate.

"—It started out at the graveyard, He killed Cedric and kept me under a Cruciatus Curse." Harry chuckled bitterly. "After he got his body, we dueled and I saw Them again. I-I started screaming because of all of my scar—and Cedric—and the Cruciatus curse. But then I woke up, and someone big was holding my arms, and I could feel warm breath on my face, I thought I was back at my relative's house." He looked down shamefully. "I freaked. I thought I was going to get beat, and I knew if I was beat again before I could get to Hogwarts that I wouldn't m-make it." His voice cracked, and he turned his face away from Mrs. Weasley. Who was heartbroken, she knew it was probably something like that, but to hear such a small child speak so plainly about horrors that should only exist in fairytales killed her. She bit back a dry sob and resisted holding Harry to her tightly. This wasn't the time for her to loose her rationality and just do as she pleased. But what _could _she do? It's not like with her children, she couldn't tell him that it "wasn't real" or that "it can't hurt you, you're awake now" Harry's nightmares were real, too real. So she kept rubbing his arm, until the tension eventually left his body and he smiled timidly at her.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. It was really nice." She smiled as motherly at him as she could and told him just that she was glad to help, and that she loved him. Most of her kids just brushed it off, but her kids had heard it all of their lives and saw it as something to be embarrassed by. But Harry wasn't like that, he'd accept any sign of affection that he could as long as it didn't trigger flashbacks. She sighed, smiling at him lovingly, and a little sadly.

"I'll see you in the morning dear, I'll have something made extra-delicious for you." Harry thanked her and wished her a goodnight, which she returned.

"Sweet dreams." And the door closed quietly. Harry held back a snort, he never slept after a nightmare. Damn, he was going to be exhausted tomorrow.

**AN: Review Reply **

**Alex: I totally agree, it kind of annoys me too, but in my life, there's always a thorough mix of gay couples and straight couples and I realized that I was following the cannon pairings, which was 1) kind of uncreative for a fanfiction and 2) completely straight which doesn't really fit my idea of reality, it was just Harry because he was the only one that hasn't already been holding/being held by any of the other characters. I also considered Sirius and Lupin, but I've never been really close to that pairing, and well, I-I am a sucker for Tonks and Lupin after that whole seventh-book thing. Harry wasn't raped, and I probably would've mixed it up, made him the dominant one. I do want him to break down and be weak, so that he can heal, but to be the submissive one in a relationship—I think that's asking too much of his character—Also, thanks for a thought-filled review ******

**Alright, see you next time (please review, I feel like I'm writing this story blindly with so little opinion-giving) but thanks for what reviews I got, they were nice and I enjoyed bragging about them to the people that are forced into my company (aka-friends and family) **

3


	8. I'm Not Allowed

**You lucky freaking bastards. Thought I forgot all about this, didn't you? Well too freaking bad, I'm not. (so **_**ha**_**) Erm, sorry for the delay, for a good number of reasons I haven't been able to work on this, writer's block, summer homework, and my parents insisting that they needed the laptop (what kind of person thinks that there's anything more important than fanfiction?) anyways, here's the next chapter and I dearly hope that some of you were excited to see that little message in your inbox ******** so, without further ado, read on! **

The sun finally rose and Harry slid stiffly from the bed. The day held just as many horrors as the night—but they were of the uneasy confrontation sort rather than the scared-for-his-well-being. He slipped on some clothes and tip-toed downstairs, trying to preserve the quiet that lit the still air. He slid into the kitchen and found the kettle and tea leaves so that he would have something to warm himself and his friends. It smelled relaxing, if that was possible, and he was content having the room to himself. He went to sit and sip his tea, letting his mind go blank and an artificial nothing envelop his thoughts. He breathed in the steam, and drank the dark and translucent liquids. Breathe in. Quiet. Breathe out. Quiet. He sat there for an hour, maybe an hour-and-a-half. But then the red-head clan-mother entered, ready to commit her usual morning-bustle in the kitchen.

"Hello dear—up already?" She smiled at him motherly, and tried to hide the worry from his eyes. Harry just 'hmm'ed and nodded absent-mindedly.

"I've actually always been a bit of a morning person." He shrugged dismissively. "I love the early mornings, when everything's still quiet and still." He grinned into his tea, his eyes lost in some memory that she could only hope to ever know.

"What would you like for breakfast?" She asked him cheerily. She didn't give him the offer to skip out on breakfast on purpose, but she hoped he wouldn't ask for something too small at least.

"I'm, I'm really not that hungry Mrs. Weasley." He murmured into the remnants of his tea. He felt the disapproval in her silence and immediately tried to make amendments. "I guess some toast will be fine." She still wasn't satisfied by the answer he'd given, but she was willing not to push it any farther. Instead she stood and went to the pantry to make the best damned toast in the known universe. But you know; that was just because she loved Harry so much. He sat there with a thoughtful look on his face, and she was the only one actually uncomfortable with the silence.

"Do you know what you, Ron, and Hermione will be doing today?" She asked quietly, not wanting to startle Harry. She was sure he'd forgotten she was there.

"I don't know, I don't really want to be with them though—it'll just be uncomfortable." Molly glanced at him, worried that he was upset because of what she'd asked.

"They really love you, you know. We all do." She whispered it so quietly, Harry wasn't sure if he was supposed to hear. But as he saw it, if she didn't want it heard, she shouldn't have said it, and he really wished she hadn't said it.

"Yes, well I'd best—" the door swung open and Sirius burst in, dark circles under his eyes.

"Can't seem to get a single bloody hour of sleep, Molly, is there any tea?" Both of the kitchen's occupants were startled at the sight of the convict but Harry quickly mocked up his face with calmness.

"Oh, Sirius, I didn't think you'd be up at such an hour! Of course there's tea, I'll go warm up a cup for you." The Weasley matriarch stood up and hurried to the kettle. Sirius sat down heavily and just then noticed the one other person there.

"Harry, I didn't know you were up, how did you sleep?" The concern in his voice came out sounding suspicious and Harry recognized it. He glanced up quickly and returned to the cooling mug in his hands.

"Oh, fine. Very restful." He whispered, startled into whispering by the sudden and oppressively loud presence of his godfather. The rugged man studied him closely and Harry was really self-conscious of the heaviness that wouldn't leave his eyes. He looked down, uncomfortable with the lengthy eye contact. Sirius reached out and took Harry's face in his rough hand.

"S-Siri," he pulled away, still not looking into the man's face.

"Harry." Sirius said warningly. "Don't lie to me, I'm your godfather. You need to trust me and let me help you, if you just close yourself off—"

"You don't even understand what you're saying, do you?" Harry clenched his tea cup and his knuckles went white with the swirling emotions that tore at him, internally. Sirius frowned in confusion.

"What do you mean, Harry? I just want you to open up to us." Harry took deep breaths and tried to ignore all the thoughts and impressions and broken memories that burnt his mind. He set the shaking cup down and instead gathered the hem of his shirt in his tiny fists and squeezed to let off some of the stress that was building up behind his eyes.

"I can't! Trust an adult it's just—it's not _you_ I can't trust but… every time you say this, 'trust, trust, TRUST'!! I'm done trying, and I've been done since I was eight or nine." He frowned down at his lap.

"C'mon Harry, at least look at me, I don't know what to do, how to help," Sirius reached out and went to grasp the narrow chin of his best friend's son.

"I-I can't." Harry whispered into his chest.

"Please Harry, just try. You won't feel better if you don't make an attempt." Harry pulled away.

"No, you don't understand, I'm not _allowed_." He stood and rushed out of the kitchen, refusing to react to his godfather's pleas for his return and instead, concentrating on keeping the tears in his eyes from falling. He stormed out of the kitchen and up the stairs keeping his motions quiet only to avoid waking Sirius' mum. His glare never left his trainers and his shoulders were hunched, so it was understandable why he didn't see Ron's arm pop out of a door and tug him in by his sleeve.

"Oi!" Harry's eyes were wide and his heart jumped to a harsh speed.

"Hey mate, we were hoping you'd keep us company." Ron's voice was strained, but too faintly for Harry to detect.

"Um," he looked around to see that Ginny and Hermione was there too, sitting around some magazines. Magazines, mind you, that were predominantly pink. Harry turned back to Ron and his best friend's pleading eyes helped him decide.

"Sure, why not?" He shrugged, waiting for his heart to slow and trying to hide the feeling of déjà vu. This wasn't going to be anything like that night before the trial, right?

"We haven't been able to relax like this for so long, I'm glad we can finally." Hermione murmured, not even bothering to look up from the article that she was absorbed with.

"Mm hmm," Ron agreed, watching Harry with an unreadable look on his face. Harry shifted his weight, refusing to meet the faraway look in his friend's eyes. After a moment of this, Ginny glanced up at the boys.

"Well, don't just sit there and gape at him." She reprimanded her brother crossly. "I'm sure he'd appreciate not being treated like some vile snake behind the glass." Ron immediately reacted by turning a red most thought impossible. Most. Anyone who knew him and his family not included. Harry though snorted into his hand, a laugh bubbling in his chest. Everyone else in the room looked up at him, Hermione beamed at him, obviously taking this as his breakthrough after the horrors he had faced as a child.

"Well come on, making fun of Ron is funny, but not _that_ funny, what's got you all laughing like that?" Ginny asked in mock annoyance. Harry with his black hair hiding his face, just shook his head while trying desperately to catch his breath.

"The summer I got my Hogwarts level, the Dursleys were taking Dudley and his friend Pier to the zoo. They had to take me because Mrs. Figg had broken her leg and Aunt Marge was off somewhere on vacation." He grinned at them. "They were so mad, but that didn't matter much because it was the first time I could go to the zoo! Uncle and Dudley were trying to get a python to move, trying to wake it up by beating on the glass, jerks. But as soon as they turned away to go bother some other poor creature, the snake woke up and said hello." He smiled widely at him. "It was the first conversation I'd ever had with someone who didn't think I was a lying punk." Ron frowned at being compared to some snake, but that only made Hermione and his sister laugh even harder.

"Oh, so you knew you were a parselmouth since you were ten?" Hermione asked.

"Well, sort of. I didn't know what a parselmouth was until our second year, and I certainly didn't know the dark implications people would take from it." Harry snorted, crossing his arms. "Really, that I could grow up to as another Tom Riddle just because I can talk to snakes." A pause. "Of course, Voldemort wouldn't be Voldemort if he could talk to bunnies instead."

"Ummm… I'm going to assume that that was supposed to make sense." The children, now positively _roaring_ with laughter, all looked up to see the amused werewolf who'd managed to slip unnoticed into their doorway.

"Oh, professor, I haven't seen you for days—how are you?" Lupin smiled lightly at his brightest ex-pupil.

"I'm quite content with things, thank you. But I am here to tell Harry and Ron that since Tonks will be staying here for a while, that Harry will need to move in with Ron to free his room for her." Harry paled a little, which Lupin noticed.

"Just like at school, huh mate?" Ron laughed, patting Harry on the small of his back.

"Y-Yeah, just like at Hogwarts." He offered them a shaky smile and tried to teasingly punch Ron in the arm, but they all saw how uneasy he was.

"Is something wrong Harry?" Ginny asked concernedly. Harry smiled at them again.

"What? No, nothing. Why?" He asked cheerfully. They would've believed it too, if it hadn't been for the circumstances he was in. How could he change emotions like that? His friends knew something was wrong, but they couldn't even fathom what his abrupt mood swings were indicative of. Ginny shrugged noncommittally, still not convinced that something wasn't wrong.

"Yes, well, I was also sent to tell you that Molly has breakfast ready for you lot." He smiled, but it was strained, and Harry wondered how close the full moon was. The Weasleys both jumped up and made to go downstairs but Hermione, an only child, and Harry, a kid forbidden to eat, left more slowly.

Lupin hung back to talk to Harry, and Hermione ran on ahead at the man's request.

"Professor?" Harry's question was cautious and wary, as though Lupin would start interrogating him at any moment. His lips barely moved and he refused to look Lupin in the face. Remus knelt down and so that when Harry looked up they'd be at eye level.

"Harry," he murmured. "Sirius told me about what happened this morning." Harry still didn't look up. "Harry, why did you say that? Why were you upset with Sirius?" Harry took a step away from his old teacher and all at once it Lupin. He saw in front of him a little boy who never knew love. Who was thoroughly convinced that he wasn't worthy. Of anything. Wasn't even worthy of the beatings he got for things he didn't do. He saw a little boy that was alone in the most profound, darkest way.

"I'm sorry." The bone-deep exhaustion that found a home in this child was almost enough to knock Remus off his feet.

"No Harry, that's not what I'm asking for. You didn't do anything wrong, I just want to know why you did what you did." Harry started to shake and Lupin was so confused, he couldn't understand what changed between the time where Harry was laughing so hard with friends that he couldn't breathe, and now, he was so withdrawn and certain that he had misbehaved. The man's heart skipped a beat or two and he had to gulp for air. Was Harry afraid of him? He never had a reason to trust an authority figure before, and now he was alone with one, in an unfamiliar house. Lupin almost just let his knees give out and dropped to the floor on his ass.

"Come on Harry, let's go down to breakfast, I'm sure everyone misses us." He turned around and began to walk, slowly, and was dismayed to see Harry following silently behind, not looking up once. But as soon as they entered the dining room and had a steaming plate of breakfast snuck under his nose, he almost seemed to wake back up. His cheeks found their color and his eyes seemed to gather the spirit of his parents. Lupin breathed a sigh of relief at the sight, but was still pretty shaken up by his earlier realization. How could he help James' son? How could he get Lily's boy to trust him?

2


End file.
